


The Stag Prince

by SynapticFirefly



Category: South Park, South Park: The Stick of Truth (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Homage, Humor, M/M, Sexual Humor, Slash, Snarky Elves, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 99,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SynapticFirefly/pseuds/SynapticFirefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Swan Princess parody. Grand Wizard Prince Eric and High Elf Prince Kyle are roped into an arranged marriage. Honestly, who thought this was a good idea to start with?<br/>Eventual Kyman, slight Stenny, and poor Butters is a paladin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How I'd Like to Run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [parti-pooper](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=parti-pooper), [justasideblogforsp](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=justasideblogforsp), [VaderVarade](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=VaderVarade).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I get lucky I'll get chicken pox.

_Once upon a time, a great and prosperous kingdom once settled on a fertile coast overlooking the sea south of Zaron. This Kingdom of Kupa Keep was ruled by the firm and noble hand of the magical class, helmed by the great Grand Wizards of yore so that humans could live in harmony and away from their violent and savage neighbors - the Elves of the Eastern Drow, the Mino'Rities of the West, and the Canadians of the Great North._

_There was peace so long as their Wizard King was just and good, but it wasn't long before the legacy would be tainted by spoiled princes and neglectful parenting._

_Grand Wizard Jack, the fourth Tenorman to succeed the throne, had a very spoiled and conceited son. Prince Scott was sadistic, cruel, and selfish to the working class that comprised of his people. Unsettled by the murky future Prince Scott's eventual ascendance to the throne might cause, the High Priests of Radiohead foretold King Jack's infidelity with a town wench named Liane Cartman, and that their unholy union would bear a son. This prophecy came to pass and, on a strange cold day in the spring, the faint cries of Jack's illegitimate son would cement the future of Kupa Keep - for better or worse._

_Years had passed and Prince Scott grew to be even more cruel and vicious once his parents died. When rumors abound that his father had consorted with the town wench, he summoned the woman as his personal servant in an act of vengeance. Day after day, young Eric would watch as his mother slaved away in the name of the royal family, suffering verbal and physical abuse from their cruel prince._

_Enraged by their treatment at the hands of the Tenorman family, Eric finally unleashed the magic born from his bastard father's blood, and bested Prince Scott in magical combat at the extraordinary age of three. The High Priests of Radiohead named Eric as the true next heir to Kupa Keep's throne with the kind and gentle Liane as queen regent until he became of age._

_Stripped of his rightful kingdom and shamed beyond recognition, Prince Scott vowed to take back what was his. He stole the fabled Stick of Truth from a faraway kingdom and, with its power, began his reign of terror upon the land._

_His plight was all for naught however, for the Stick was coveted by the barbaric and warrior-driven Kingdom of Jersey. Summoned was the infamous hell bringer of the battlefield, Princess S-Woww Titty Bang - or later known as Queen Sheila of the Drow. With Queen Liane's support, Queen Sheila toppled Scott's magically created army and recovered the Stick of Truth as her prize._

_With Lord Scott's shout of vengeance on both houses before he retreated, he had unwittingly brought a temporary truce between Kupa Keep and the Drow Elves - for they were once neighboring kingdoms best known for their arch rivalry._

_Enlightened by Jersey and the Drow's alliance through marriage, Queen Liane wished for one with Kupa Keep after hearing that Princess Sheila was pregnant with the Drow Elf King's child. With the prospect of a strong unified kingdom for humans and elves, Sheila accepted. Her husband accepting the blessing, they began the first peaceful summit between the two kingdoms._

_On an autumn's eve, a son was born to Sheila and Highest Elf Gerald - Prince Kyle. Kupa Keep's royal entourage stepped into the Drow Elf Kingdom for the first time in centuries to join the festivities and meet the newborn - and Prince Eric's future betrothed. Their parents would strive to make sure they would meet every summer in the hopes of them falling in love._

_But this isn't some high fantasy Disney-knockoff fairytale - or maybe it is - for the resentment between the two kingdoms transcends even through blood. They couldn't have picked a far worse couple to bring together like Eric and Kyle._

_Our story begins at the cusp of Prince Kyle's fifth year where he visits the royal palace of Kupa Keep for the first time…_

* * *

  _The First Summer_

Queen Liane awaited them patiently at the portcullis leading to the castle. Her anticipation could be found in light of her beaming smile when Highest Elf King Gerald's carriage entered the courtyard. He was the first to exit the vehicle and, with reverence, he kissed her hand.

"It's an honor to see you again, King Gerald," she said with a softness befitting her looks. She curtseyed in her fluttering blue gown. "Welcome to Kupa Keep and everything within."

"I am honored," he replied, sweeping his exotic robe back to properly bow. "I saw you standing there as we made our way through the town. I hope you didn't wait so long for us to arrive."

Liane shook her head and touched her pearls. "No, I've waited far long enough to meet your family again. To be honest, I didn't think you still wanted the engagement. You were the one who doubted it out of all of us."

"True," King Gerald admitted, "but Sheila would have wanted it. She was just so happy talking about Kyle's future. The path of uniting two great kingdoms together would have been her swan song; her place in history. I'd like to imagine she was looking down at us in some tavern from Shorhalla promising to wring my neck if I backed down now."

Queen Liane laughed to avoid shedding tears again for her passed friend. "I'd like to think that too."

Queen Sheila's death had shaken not just her home kingdom of Jersey, but the rest of Zaron. It would be a long time before history no longer remembered her loud if not unorthodox methods of fostering peace. According to the customs of Jersey, to die from childbirth blessed the infant with power and strength. Sheila would have been extraordinarily proud to produce the only thing that contributed to her demise. Nothing else would have.

Despite this, young Kyle's first breath was difficult. This was a typical thing for a Jerseyan according to Sheila's last letters - the child would either become an unstoppable force of nature or a dependent hypochondriac. The first years were rough from King Gerald's written correspondence because Kyle's health fluctuated on a whim. Even now, she had heard that Kyle needed a certain cocktail of potions for his daily regimen of wellness.

The thought of Kyle becoming ill in her kingdom during his stay worried her enough to order the castle clean from top to bottom - no surface found itself with dust by the time the word came of the Drow caravan looming in the horizon.

Even today, everything had been last minute. She had even finished hiring additional alchemists and physicians this morning just to provide round-the-clock care for the summer.

Her eight year old son had been especially fussy about it. She had ordered the maids to rearrange everything in his room to impeccable order. The cost of her fussiness was enduring his complaints because he couldn't find his toys.

"Why do we have to bend over and take it from these elves?!" Eric had huffed. "This is a sign of weakness, mom!"

"Eric, what did I say about mimicking Lord Garrison at the dinner table?"

"But meeeeeeem, I don't want to marry a stupid elf!"

"You haven't even properly met him yet, sweetie."

"Yeah and I already hate his guts!" he screeched, and that was the end of the conversation before she sent him to his room without dinner. She would not sit by and let her son say such things about Sheila's son…

…in public. She sent for food up to his room an hour later, ever the coddled mother she was.

"Oh, where are my manners?" she giggled and gestured to the older men to her right. "This is Lord Garrison - Eric's tutor in the arcane arts. He's graciously offered to work as Kyle's summer tutor."

Garrison eyed the Elf King with deep-seated suspicion before bowing. He had never been too fond of immigrants - especially _elvish_ ones. "Yes, yes. Hello, Your Majesty."

Liane continued with her obliviousness. "And the other man is Lord Mackey. He'll be Kyle's cultural adviser, though I'm not quite sure to what extent."

The big-headed man was much more amicable after he bowed. "Yes, you see there's lots of cultural differences between the Drow elves and humans, m'kay. I'll make sure Prince Kyle doesn't create a… _'faux pas'_ , as we call it in Kupa Keep, m'kay." He air quoted for good measure. "And I'm sure Prince Kyle would be more than happy to share your own cultural differences to bridge understanding between the two kingdoms."

"Yeah, for instance, we don't eat twigs or dance naked under the moon like uncivilized monkeys," Garrison muttered under his breath. Liane shot him an exasperated look. "What?"

His smile dimmed with uncertainty leaving his son to these men, but King Gerald shook it off and introduced them to his new Captain of the Guard, Ranger Marshwalker, who would stay as Kyle's personal guard. With the ranger toddled his five year old son who, instead of introducing himself, immediately climbed up the foot rest of the carriage to talk to someone through the curtained window.

"Oh, well, that's polite," Garrison snarked. "Even the human traitors from elfland are barbaric."

"Lord Garrison," Liane warned firmly.

Ranger Marshwalker was apologetic at the lack of courtesy. "Sorry, sorry! Little Stan here wanted to follow His Majesty's son for the summer. He thinks he's the prince's bodyguard or something! I told Sharon to keep an eye on him!" He looked around for his wife. "Sharon! Hey, Shar-"

"It's all right Randy," Gerald interrupted pleasantly. "I'm glad he and Kyle get along so well. See, Kyle didn't really make much friends before the Marshwalkers moved to the kingdom and to tell you the truth, I think he's nervous. It's good that Stan's here to keep him comfortable - if you don't mind Liane?"

Liane shook her head. "Oh no, I don't mind! That just means more friends for my little Eric. He doesn't have many children his age to play with either, really. Just Lady McCormick and the Stotch boy from the stables."

Further down the courtyard, Eric peered from behind the corner of the castle wall. He had long since waited for the elves to arrive and, with Kenny and Butters in tow, they decided to scope them out from a distance before making themselves known. Eric didn't like going in blind without a plan to get out of this engagement - it wasn't his style.

If he wanted to take his betrothed down, he was going to have to learn all of his weaknesses, memorize them, and strike.

Butters wrung his hands nervously behind Eric. "S-shouldn't you go to your mother now, your highness? It looks like they're waiting a gosh long time for you."

"Shut up, Butters," Eric drawled before glancing up a nearby tree. "Kenny, do you see the target?"

In her secondhand frock, Kenny had trouble maneuvering through the tree branches without compromising the only intact dress she had in her wardrobe. She peered through the leaves and got a good visual at the carriage, but nothing inside it.

"Nope! That carriage is covered from top to bottom! But I see a boy with black hair talking to the window. He's cute!" She fluffed up her non-existent breasts through her flowery bodice with a sultry giggle.

Eric gagged and shot a look of disgust at her. "You're so gross, Kenny."

She bit her thumb at him in response.

"Is the boy with the black hair the one you have to marry?" Butters squeaked and flinched when Eric raised a hand at him.

"Were you deaf the last few months, Butters? I told you I'm getting hitched to an ugly ginger!" he screeched, lowering his hand. "But I've got a plan. I got rid of that piece of shit Scott Tenorman - getting rid of the Jew elf would be a cakewalk in comparison."

"You were like three when you beat him," Kenny pointed out with a snort. "You probably just needed to take a shit in your diaper and your magic overloaded."

"FUCK YOU, KENNY!"

Butters yelped in fear when the adults caught wind of Eric's outburst. He dodged and ran away, leaving the prince to his fate. They seemed to have heard no particular words, (or perhaps they ignored it), because King Gerald smiled pleasantly at Eric and Liane placed her hands on her hips before shushing him out of his hiding spot.

"There you are, sweety! Come and meet Kyle!" she crooned. When he hesitated out of stubbornness, his tutor took the reins.

"Get your lazy ass over here, Eric!" Lord Garrison snarled. "Or I'll make you jog for a week! God knows you need it!"

 _Ay! I'm not fat you son of a bitch!_ Eric was ready to shout back, but Liane's sharp look of warning stopped him. He pouted and shuffled over only to cringe when Liane knelt down to fix the lopsided burgundy cape around his shoulders. "Moooom!"

"I'm sorry," she chirped, not sounding apologetic at all when she brushed the nonexistent dirt and dust off of it. When she went too far trying to lick her thumb to wash his cheek, Lord Garrison rolled his eyes.

"For God's sake, your Majesty, the boy is fine."

She apologized again, unfazed by Garrison's caustic tone before pulling away. "Oh, alright," she said in excitement as she dusted off her dress. "This is so exciting, don't you think Eric? You haven't seen Kyle since his birth!"

"Whoop-de-doo," Eric breathed unpleasantly while Randy bowed at him and headed back to the carriage. "It'll be an _unforgettable_ experience for sure, mother."

Once again, she mistook her son's sarcasm for sincerity and placed warm hands on his shoulders. Her polite smile turned genuine when Randy plucked Stan off to open the carriage door.

"Your majesties and your highness," Randy announced and swung the door wide open. "I give you High Elf Kyle of the Drow, Second Prince of Jersey."

Unable to withstand his curiosity, Butters returned to peer around the corner with Kenny still hanging on for dear life. "Oh, boy! Can you see from that angle, Kenny? What's he look like?!"

Perhaps it was the atmosphere surrounding little Eric or maybe his mother's excitement was infectious. Despite the nightmare of being engaged, the anticipation meeting his elusive fiancé made his heart pound in his chest. It was like they were waiting to unveil the hidden treasure of Zaron or drink from the Grail of Chinpoko.

A small dainty hand reached out from the darkness of the carriage, but as soon as it touched the sunlight, it retreated. A low whistle in the shadows brought the footman running so he can raise a giant umbrella overhead.

 _"Oh my god,"_ Eric muttered in horror when an ugly, curly haired monstrosity helped himself off the carriage by Stan. His skin was an unhealthy milky white from lack of sun and bright freckles adorned his face. He supposed the one good thing about it was that he wasn't ginger… and that was it.

Kyle licked over his overbite and peered around through his over sized glasses. "Oh my gods, this air is so dry! It's really chafing my skin! And is this actual grass?" he experimentally toed the blades. "Oh dear, I'm allergic to grass! Do we have a potion on standby because it's really irritating my sinuses…"

There was a long pregnant silence.

"Heh, heh… haha! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Unable to hold his tongue for long, Butters' shrill laughter was the only thing heard in the courtyard save for the tweeting of birds. Once it transformed into hysterical wheezes, Eric's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

"SHUT THE HELL UP, BUTTERS!"

That only seemed to make things worse. Kenny followed Butters' lead and nearly broke her neck falling out of the tree in laughter. Eric thought he might cry… and he almost did when he quickly darted behind his mother to avoid accepting his horrible fate.

Liane was the only one still smiling, however fixed it looked. She didn't expect Sheila's son to be, well… "Well hello, Kyle," Liane said pleasantly. She elbowed Garrison's gut hard before he considered opening his mouth. "It's wonderful to finally meet you!"

"Oh! This isn't the Kyle you're looking for," Gerald explained as Kyle pushed his glasses up his nose and stepped to the side. "This is his cousin… _Lord_ Kyle. He's not staying for the summer - his home was on the way over so we thought we could hit two birds with one stone taking him with us."

"What a very Jewish thing to do saving time and money like that," Eric drawled under his breath and grinned when Garrison snorted at him.

Liane's eyebrows furrowed in polite bewilderment. "Isn't it confusing having two Kyles in the household?"

Gerald offered her a shrug. "Well, Sheila and her sister both liked the name. Sheila won since our Kyle came first, but Jerseyans have always been stubborn to a fault." He turned back around. "All right, come on out, son. Stop hiding!"

"I'm not hiding!" an adorable squeak echoed out of the open door. Eric peered from behind his mother to look inside. If this Kyle was as ugly as the last, he may have to consider jumping out of the tallest tower.

Stan climbed into the carriage. "Come on out, your highness!" he said brightly. "It's okay!"

Eric didn't like that his 'betrothed' seemed dependent on the hired help. Another pale hand shot out for Stan's gloved one and pulled itself out of the carriage.

This time, Liane beamed, recognizing those fiery curls that belonged to his late mother.

He didn't look as horrible as the first Kyle, but he was still a mousy little ginger with green eyes, which was now Eric's least favorite color. Small pointed ears stuck out of those frizzy locks and, with his own robes designed with nature in mind, that was enough to make Kyle seem otherworldly and truly not human.

It was then Eric realized with dawning heartbreak that this was the one he would eventually marry. Not a normal human boy or girl, but an out-of-place scheming elvish Jewrat.

Why did God hate him so much? Had he not been a good, faithful Christian boy this year?

Prince Kyle waved away the offered umbrella with mild embarrassment before he stepped onto the grass. He looked around to inhale the afternoon air and, satisfied by the scent, he glanced up at his father with expectation. Stan smiled encouragingly at him from behind.

Much to Eric's irritation, Kyle focused on everyone - except for him.

"Hello Kyle," Liane said warmly. When Sheila's eyes curiously met hers, she fought to choke back a sob. "You've grown the last time I saw you! It's an absolute pleasure to meet you! Welcome to our kingdom! Lord Mackey…"

Mackey cleared his throat and gave Eric a flat rectangular box made of mahogany and gold. "Present the prince with your dowry, your highness, m'kay?"

Eric was firmly rooted in place.

Liane nudged him forward, "…go on, sweetie."

Nodding, Gerald pulled out something wrapped in velvet from the chest Ranger Marshwalker opened and gestured for Kyle to follow Eric's example. Timidness slowly curled up both the princes' spines and they found themselves unable to move forward without their parents gently pushing them.

Garrison scoffed at the pathetic scene. "Come on! We don't have all day!"

Eric leaned back as if repelled before giving a stiff bow. "Hello, Prince Kyle. It is a pleasure to welcome you to our prosperous country."

Kyle recognized biting sarcasm immediately and flashed a warning glare at him. Reluctantly, he gave Eric an elvish curtsy. "Prince Eric… I am _pleased_ to accept your invitation on behalf of my kingdom." It didn't take a genius to figure out how sardonic the half-elf's words were. Offended, Eric scoffed and ran back to his mother.

"Get your ass back in there and do it properly, Eric!" Garrison snarled. "For gods sake, I'd like to eat before I turn a hundred, please!"

Kenny and Butters had already inched their way over to hide behind Queen Liane, too tempted not to move closer and enjoy the tense affair.

Kyle was the first one to shove the wrapped bundle, nearly clipping Eric's nose in the process. His expression twisted, Eric shoved the box back at him. They maintained some weird standoff before Kyle gave in and curiously opened the box.

"Oh wow," said Stan in awe as Kyle pulled out a polished gold chain. Hanging on the end was a circular gold pendant with an animal's silhouette engraved on the base.

Mackey answered the confused look on his prince's face. "The stag is the Broflovski Crown's royal animal, m'kay, a clever play on the most majestic animal in the forest. You see, the Drow Elves consider the easternmost forests their domain - and therefore keep the wildlife and natural magic in balance -"

Garrison groaned. "This shit's going to drag all day, isn't it?"

If his mom was going out of her way to make such an expensive present for Kyle, surely Eric himself was in for a treat. Always excited when it came to gifts, Eric eagerly unraveled the velvet wrap and…

…worst Christmas present ever.

"It's a _stick_ ," Eric didn't even bother hiding his displeasure. "You couldn't even bother at least _polishing_ it, could you?" 

To everyone's surprise, Kyle piped up with a severe hiss, "It's a sacred branch from the World Tree of Zaron! There are people that would give their right arms for it!"

"Clearly _your_ people would because you still use tree bark as a form of currency," Eric said simply, "but we're more civilized and advanced."

"Using jewels and gold pieces to trade for items is the most backwards thing I've ever heard from you humans!" Kyle snapped. "You can't even eat them or find a use for them! All you do is covet them because they're shiny! And you call _us_ barbaric?" He growled through his teeth when Eric kept tossing the stick in the air like it was a toy. "Have you no respect for other cultures?!"

"Respect is earned, Kyle - can I call you Kyle?"

Kyle's glare was poisonous. "I'd rather you didn't."

"Okay, _Kyle_ ," Eric said primly. "Now really, where's my real present? I think we've all had a good laugh, but now you're just being immature."

" _I'm_ immature?! You're an ungrateful spoiled brat!" Kyle shouted and shoved the pendant forward. "Just trade back, okay! Give me the stick!"

Eric's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You want to trade that nice piece of gold for this ugly stick?"

"Yes!"

Well that just wouldn't do. Eric hid the stick behind his back. "No, I don't think I want to trade back anymore."

"ARRRRRRG!"

Stan had to actually grab the back of Kyle's robes before he tried to launch himself at Eric. "Easy, my prince."

"Well this is going fucking peachy, don't you think?" Garrison asked sarcastically.

Gerald finally put his foot down. Taking the pendant, he clasped it around his son's neck. "It's a lovely gift, Liane, and I'm sure Kyle very much appreciates it."

"I apologize for Eric's lack of manners. Boys and their opinions, I suppose. Eric…" Liane said sternly when he stuffed the stick without thought into his belt. "Kyle is your fiancé now. Show him how Kupa Keep citizens greet their loved ones."

"Uh… no?" Eric grimaced. "You couldn't pay me all the treasure in the world to kiss that ginger!"

Kyle made a sound of disgust and tried to hide behind his father. "Screw that!

"Kyle…" he warned.

"Dad, no!"

"Son, _yes_ ," Gerald grabbed his squirming son and shoved him back into the middle. "Offer him your hand, Kyle. It's their customary greeting."

"Yeah, your highness!" Kenny's flirtatious voice muffled through her shawl, "Kiss his hand!" Butters giggled into his palm.

Stan snickered in sympathy once he noticed the color drain from Kyle's cheeks. He quickly schooled a straight face when Kyle snapped a glare at him over his shoulder.

Grinding his teeth, Eric snatched his fiancé's delicate hand and willed down the breakfast in his stomach long enough to endure kissing a ginger. Kyle's stare was downright murderous when Eric kissed his hand, turned in disgust, and pretended to vomit. His friends cackled unpleasantly.

Eric still couldn't believe he was stuck with a sickly fiancé all summer. Delicate enough to be blown away by a breeze, Eric bet that Kyle couldn't do cool things like wrestle or hunt. It would be like walking an overdressed poodle around the courtyard.

Kyle's mood plummeted to sub-zero temperatures. Eric flinched in alarm when the delicate ginger bared his teeth, held up his fists to him, and all imaginings of a wimpy fiancé were dashed out the window. Strike that - he was sure the next time he would try to kiss Kyle, he'd end up with a _black eye_.

And that was fine. He would rather go one-on-one with a gorgon before he was forced to put his lips on the ginger again.

"That doesn't seem sanitary at all," the other Kyle quipped before asking for a hand sanitizer, "but if you insist…"

Eric blanched in horror. He looked to his mother, beseeching for mercy, but Liane smiled and urged him to do the same to Lord Kyle.

"Yeah," Prince Kyle breathed, his green eyes glittering with cold amusement. It strangely thrilled and angered Eric. "I think it's only fair don't you think, Stan?"

Stan snickered.

By the end of the introductions Eric was sure Kenny had died from an overdose of laughter.


	2. Such Good Parenting and Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric's quite the catch.

_The Second Summer_

After the first summer, King Gerald chaperoned Kyle's stay in Kupa Keep for many years after. Why? His once quiet and dutiful son had returned in the fall willful and outspoken and it very much alarmed him. Whatever happened in the human kingdom had drastically changed his son's personality. It was only logical as his father to witness what stirred Kyle's once pure spirit into such negativity over one small human child.

It didn't take too long, however. Kyle had spent all winter determined to make his father see reason that Eric was corrupt and conceited deep within his soul; he was not a suitable husband for the future King of the Drow. His long and often winded speeches went unheard for they ended up back in Kupa Keep the following summer to try again.

Like two unfriendly hounds, Kyle instantly took Eric's bait the moment they saw each other again. Gerald had spent the introductions watching them insult each other until one gave in under pressure and turned it into a physical altercation. He watched with concern as Kyle cleverly used his faster reflexes to roll his rotund fiancé around the grass while Eric howled and cried for his mother. Garrison and Mackey managed to pull them apart, but it was pretty obvious that refereeing their fights will have to be added to their resumes from now on.

While Kyle truly believed Eric would grow up to be some kind of villain, Gerald wanted to hope that Eric's behavior was simply due to his age and perhaps a lack of a paternal figure in his life. Liane was notorious for being a kind and almost _too_ gentle of a ruler - so much so that Garrison was the one who maintained an aggressive status quo to avoid her being taken advantaged of by her own court. He had no doubt she graced her son with parenting similar to how she ruled.

He himself had never witnessed the brunt of Eric's disregard for authority figures. Eric had always been very formal and cordial to the king with respect befitting a young prince. From a first glance, it would seem as if Kyle was exacerbating Eric's negative qualities for the sake of ruining the engagement.

At least, that was Eric had told him in private.

"Oh yes, I just don't understand," Eric told him sadly. "I try to be a good fiancé, but Kyle just won't stop being so mean to me. I just wanted to bring our kingdoms together in harmony - is that too much to ask?"

Gerald decided Eric was a _very_ good actor. Perhaps that only further reinforced how important this engagement was. Kyle kept his heart on his sleeve so religiously, it could be just as much of a hindrance to a ruler as it was a benefit.

But Eric knew subterfuge. Like Garrison to Liane, he could protect Kyle from the dirtier matters of court politics.

For now, both boys were being downright ridiculous, but he gave them the benefit of the doubt and decided that time would be on his and Liane's side. They were only children after all. They would grow out of it.

During the afternoons, Gerald and Liane tended to retire in one of the grand studies to go over territory disputes and trade routes. It was relatively quiet for once - or perhaps Kyle and Eric were still 'playfully' dueling somewhere in the other side of the castle. It wouldn't be the first time half of the entire castle were disrupted by whatever scheme Eric pulled just to rile his fiancé, no matter how petty it was. If they weren't careful, this extreme version of pigtail-pulling might leave Liane's tapestries burned in their wake. Kyle _did_ start learning fire magic this year.  

Gerald sighed peacefully and brushed a bit of ink off the exposed map on the table. Liane's soft voice weaved in and out about a garden she had planted to make Kyle's stay more comfortable. Elves never did too well living in castles - and Kyle had complained last summer about the stone walls disrupting his magic and triggering his claustrophobia.

"Eric wasn't too happy to hear we converted his pony stables to make room," Liane continued from the window as she observed the gardeners work the grounds below, "but I told him that sacrifices must be made for the sake of his beloved."

He frowned as she hummed nonsensically, completely unfazed by what ill she must have wrought from her actions. "While I appreciate what you're doing for my son, it might not help our cause by continuing to step on Eric's toes. Their animosity seems to be growing every single day, Liane. Resentment will only breed more problems between them."

"On the contrary, I've never seen Eric so devoted to Kyle," Liane turned and sat down opposite of him with a smile. "Did you know that the staff have been complaining about Eric _less_ with Kyle in the castle?" She lifted a small porcelain bowl. "Sugar?"

He waved the offer before returning to his tea. "No thank you. With all due respect, I think it's because Kyle gets in his way. My son's always been quite opinionated when it comes too… erm… people opposite his viewpoint. If Eric is doing things that Kyle doesn't agree with, he'll have no trouble letting him know about it."

Liane accepted the refill of hot tea offered by Lord Mackey. "Oh, it's so exciting! An actual engagement of opposite attraction! It's almost like a fairytale."

"Is… was this common last summer?" he asked Liane in bewilderment. Kyle always exhibited maturity at home, but these days it seemed as if a wraith possessed his frail son and fueled the long dormant hot-tempered attitude his mother was famous for. Whether this was a good or bad thing remained to be seen.

She smiled apologetically. "Oh, yes. From your letters, I didn't expect Kyle to be so… _energetic_. I expected him to be bedridden for most days, but I suppose Eric can't leave him well enough alone. I'm so sorry."

"No, no…" he trailed off, his sharp frown receding. "I'm just surprised is all. I just never considered Kyle keeping up with the other kids like that."

With a content hum, blue eyes twinkled with a strange bit of wisdom that caught Gerald off guard. "You'd be surprised how easily children bounce back with the right motivation. Even little ailing ones like Kyle."

What they didn't know about was how deep Eric's resentment ran for Kyle. After sleepless nights dreaming of Kyle's insipid smirk throughout the first summer, Eric decided his life's mission was to do more than ruin the engagement. He wanted to ruin Kyle's stay so badly he'd rather kill himself than come back to Kupa Keep again.

In the first summer together, Eric quickly began a routine of waking the poor boy up at the ass crack of dawn, belittling his gay exercising ("I don't expect a fatass like you to know what yoga is!" Kyle had snarled), and became an insufferable jack hat when he took his daily elixirs.

Kyle's cool facade barely lasted half a day before he snapped over Eric's remark about Judaism. And before Eric could file that insult away for future reference, Kyle punched him like a goddamned mule so he ended up missing his tutoring session with Lord Garrison to fix his busted nose.

But the karma train to hell didn't stop there that day. Garrison gave Eric an earful for being tardy and made good on his threat to get him to exercise. Eric ended up gasping and heaving through his jog around the knight's courtyard while Kyle and Stan shared lunch with Butters and Kenny - who would later infuriate Eric more by saying how entertaining and friendly Kyle and Stan were.

"If you like them so much you marry them, you traitorous assholes!" he snarled during dinner, which meant he had to be sent back to his room without his meal… _again_.

This became an off-and-on occurrence between him and Kyle throughout the first summer. Sometimes he'd be successful enough that Kyle would lock himself in his quarters for the entire day, leaving Eric blissfully free of gingers just the way he liked it, but it didn't last long. Kyle was just so damn entertaining, Eric would visit Kyle's quarters in the eve like the smug little shit he was and rub in more insults just to bask in that furious aura Kyle would unleash just for him. No one else could pluck at Kyle's strings so perfectly or make the elf boy sing a cacophony of squeaks like Eric could.

For instance, after they got married, he told Kyle he would be forced to wash his underwear for the rest of his life. That insult usually generated a mixture of disgust and alarm so he liked to use that sparingly for variety's sake. 

Or his personal favorite, threatening to lock Kyle up in the tallest tower of the castle because having an ugly ginger Jewish elf as his husband was already punishment enough for him. Sometimes that would get Kyle to tackle him and, if Eric was insanely lucky, he'd manage to pin Kyle down and try to play ookie mouth on him while Kyle squealed and alerted his personal guard.

The last time that happened, it was Stan who arrived first to break him up. Then that asshole told Kenny, who kept going on about how gay it was trying to get his spit into Kyle's mouth. He stopped doing that afterwards. No way in hell would he ever want to swap spit with the jewrat like the other gross royal couples that frequented the court.  

Aside from that, he made a habit of watching those pale freckled cheeks glow in anger before he exploded in human swears and a foreign language Eric was sure was either Yiddish or Elvish. It became commonplace to hear Kyle's screams so often that it invaded his dreams like some kind of demented lullaby.

At first, he thought that he could run Kyle down like he did with Butters who was both obligated and too nice to stand up to his prince. But being in a foreign country where Eric's opinion swayed a hanging didn't stop Kyle from dishing out the belittling in equal measure. He especially enjoyed insulting Eric's weight - being plump was grotesque in elf culture apparently - and it was an easily accessible sore spot to get Eric's blood boiling.

He wasn't the only one who noticed the change in Kyle. Stan was firmly in Kyle's corner throughout most of their fights, but he liked to inform Eric time and time again that he was only contributing to extending the elf's health. Putting Eric in his place and ruining his schemes only made Kyle more energetic with each success.

But Stan was a no-good dirty human traitor so Eric took his words with a grain of salt.

What he didn't expect was Kyle's father to stay for the rest of this summer, so he had to keep himself on his best behavior to deter suspicion. He already suspected Kyle complained to King Gerald about his behavior, so watching Kyle simmer in anger while Eric acted out the perfect unsuspecting fiancé to the King of Elves was so delicious he kept on doing it long after it was needed.

But this? What he found his mother doing with his stables? This was unacceptable. These elves and elf sympathizers were slowly trying to creep their influence through the stone of this castle like invasive ivy just so they could choke them all in their sleep.

Eric knew this because every night this summer he dreamed of Kyle straddling his belly while choking the life out of him. Sometimes Kyle even got his revenge and tried to play ookie mouth on _him_. The most horrifying part of the whole dream was waking up to find that he  _enjoyed_  it.

* * *

Kyle tried meditating again. He sat on the floor at the foot of his grand bed, folded his legs, and attempted to draw upon the magic of nature that crept beyond the man made walls. It was more difficult here than at home. Oftentimes his consciousness would end up entangled around the emotional disarray of humans in the marketplace - or Eric would come by around this time to bang on his door knowing that it would spite him.

This time the interruption wasn't from Eric, but from a stone tossed at his balcony. Kyle sighed, unfolded himself, and picked up one of his morning elixirs on his way outside.

He found Stan grinning up at him from the grounds. "Hey Kyle! Wanna take a ride down to the beach? Kenny said there's going to be a carnival down there to commemorate some anniversary or something!" Kenny giggled by Stan's side.

Being near the ocean was too tempting for the forest elf. Kyle grinned back and eagerly nodded. "Okay! So long as no one tells fatass!"

Kenny pouted. "Aw, man… we can't double date?"

"D-double date?" Stan squeaked at her just as Kyle quickly closed the curtains and abandoned his elixir to put on his cloak. By the time Kyle threw open the heavy door he almost ran into Eric, who looked as if he had been standing outside of his quarters for a long while now.

"What did I tell you about stalking my room?" Kyle asked flatly.

"Do you think this is _your_ kingdom, Prince Kyle?" Eric answered in that low and calculating tone that could only spell trouble.

Kyle blinked at him in genuine confusion. Deciding that Eric was just being ridiculous for the sake of pissing him off, he glared and shoved Eric aside. Stan and Kenny were waiting for him and he'd be damned missing a once-in-a-lifetime chance to visit the beach.

What he didn't expect was to be grabbed by the back of his tunic and shoved back into the wall.

"The hell is your problem, asshole?" he snarled then froze when Eric pinned him hard and practically felt his breath against his cheek. He smelled like Cheesy Poofs. Gross.

"You can't fool me with that doe-eyed look, Kyle," he hissed so close to his ear, Kyle flinched and thought Eric might lick his cheek just to gross him out again.

When Eric was this intense, there was little one could do but pay attention. He had seen it happen to the others. When Eric wanted to make a grand spectacle, he made damn sure he got it. His father called it _natural charisma_ \- the one human trait that helped Eric's race conquer _nations_ \- but he had yet to be the complete focus of Eric's tranquil wrath. At least until now.

It was kind of fascinating to find the sensations of his thoughts sucked into the whirlpool of Eric's eyes. He would never admit it out loud, of course. The human prince had a big enough ego as it was.

His musing was cut short when Eric sunk his fingers into Kyle's shoulders, making sure his thoughts were less on the enigma of his character and more focused on him -  _only_ him.

 _How insecure this asshole must be to use force in order to get attention_ , Kyle thought before that too was erased by Eric's sudden growl. Kyle would never admit defeat like the others. He may pull this commandeering shit on his servants, but Kyle came from a line of powerful Jewish priests who pulled their poise and strength from animal royalty itself - the stag.

He held himself firm against the tide of Eric's sharp blue eyes.

"Get any closer and I'll punch you in the eye," Kyle promised, cutting into Eric's tense silence.

"Whatever you're doing putting that elvish jewdoo on my mom, you best stop it," Eric whispered. "Living here every summer? Pretty crafty. Eating my food, okay. But installing a fucking forest right on top of my training grounds? That's going too far!"

Kyle wasn't impressed by the threat. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you fucking play coy with me, Kahl!" Eric snarled and pointed at the window. "Because of your bitching, you made my mom turn _my_ courtyard into a goddamn rose garden!"

"A what?" Eric stiffened when Kyle leaned into him for a good look out the window, his chin pressing against his shoulder. "Huh…" He could feel Kyle's hot breath sink into the fabric of his tunic as he mused. "That's really sweet of her."

Eric shoved him back against the wall. "Fuck sweet! I'm warning you! She's _my_ mom! She does what _I_ say, not you!"

Kyle glared at him. "Well maybe if you stopped trying to convince my dad you're a goody two-shoes, we'd get rid of this engagement once and for all! So until you quit your fucking scheming, you'll have to share her - because whether you like it or not, she's going to be _my_ mom too!"

Something inside Eric snapped.

"You know…" he began, rooting Kyle in place when he tried to squirm away again. He placed his hand against Kyle's burning cheek in mock sympathy. "…just because your mom is dead, doesn't mean you need to replace her."

Kyle turned deathly still. "What?"

He shrugged, using that cloyingly sweet tone that Kyle hated so much. "Something wrong, Kyle? Have a little bit of remorse hidden somewhere deep inside? I mean, I'd be feeling guilty too if I managed to kill my mom just by being _born_."

It was too late to take his words back the moment those green eyes widened in horror, and, in a strange twisted bout of compassion, he swiped his thumb across Kyle's stilled lips to soften the blow. 

Eric had the power of words to wield like a weapon, but to use it in such a way - to find that he was actually witnessing the _moment_ Kyle broke down like he always dreamed - didn't feel right this time. That, coupled with the lack of meditation, seized up Kyle's emotions like a vice; coiled and ready to explode. Regret, guilt, anger - all of this was a churning ball of negativity pooling into his stomach.

Kyle didn't start crying like Eric had expected, but he turned extremely pale and sick-like. And instead of that outward of energy Kyle usually burned out from his magical aura, Eric found himself unable to hold on to his _own_ magic as Kyle turned inward like a super-massive black hole, literally sucking _life itself_ out of the entire hallway. 

"Okay…" Eric began delicately, suddenly unsure. "That was kind of a douchey move -"

His head snapped to the side when Kyle punched him so hard he thought he saw stars. He got knocked onto his ass and instinctively held his jaw as Kyle loomed over him, those exotic features twisted in anguish and humiliation that it threatened to ignite the very air from his uncontrollable magic.

Well fuck. He went too far this time. Eric let out a girly squeak and scrambled down the hall.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" he heard Kyle scream before he dashed through the doors.

He thought he managed to lose Kyle down the interior hallway, only for a painting above his head to ignite from a fireball.

"Stop it!" he shouted over his shoulder before dodging another one. "You're gonna burn the castle down, asshole!"

The bloodcurdling roar from Kyle put the kibosh on any kind of diplomacy.

With Kyle running over a few trolleys and unlucky servants without so much as stopping really made Eric experience actual fear. If Kyle would just slow down, he may be able to grovel and apologize before he ended up in the infirmary a second time. He just narrowly missed seeing the door to their parents' study close before he passed by it. If he had paid attention, perhaps Eric could have shouted for help.

Or not. He didn't want to see the expression on his mother's face when she found out he used her dead best friend as weapon to hurt her son.

Fear was making him stumble along the sharp burning of his jaw, so Eric completely missed the first step and tripped going down the grand staircase. He didn't even consider sliding down the banister - which was exactly what Kyle did to bridge the distance and get the jump on him. Eric yelped in surprise from Kyle's tackle and crashed face-first onto expensive carpet.

"Okay stop! Not fair! Time out!" Eric whined as Kyle pounded at his back with bony fists that hurt like the seven hells. He squirmed on the carpet while Kyle inelegantly punched and smacked every bit of him he could reach.

"Shut up! Just SHUT UP! I HATE YOU! _I HATE YOU!_ " Kyle cried out with each blow until a breath caught in his chest that made him abruptly stop.

Eric flipped them over and pinned Kyle's limbs to the carpet before he got any more ideas like kicking him in the crotch. His painful pants faded the instant Kyle started to squirm desperately under him, giving himself away.

"Aw shit…" Eric let go of his hands. "Did you take your elixirs today? You didn't, did you? Son of a bitch…"

Kyle could only heave and gasp, clutching his chest in response. The helpless look he shot at Eric must have stirred something within, because Eric made no hesitation maneuvering Kyle onto his stomach to use that gay technique he had seen the healers do to encourage Kyle's breathing.

"Kyle!" Eric warned, using both of his hands to knead and stroke up and down the smaller boy's back. "Relax and breathe in… that's right… you've got this."

Whatever he was doing seemed to be effective. Kyle managed to focus inward by Eric's soothing tone to steady the stutter in his chest.

"Hey! Get a medic!" he shouted at a passing maid, but Kyle's distress already long since alerted his father's magical senses, who quickly arrived with his mother in tow not a minute later.

Even with their parents here, Eric couldn't will himself to pull away, not when Kyle seemed so dependent on his soothing movements. It took Lord Garrison and King Gerald _both_ to pry him off of Kyle who ended up hyperventilating again. Eric had stop himself from saying he told them so for trying to separate them.

He didn't exactly have the right to say what was best for Kyle when he was the one who brought him to his worst.

* * *

Eric found himself banished to a bench behind the physicians' partition while everyone else was crooning and kissing Kyle's ass now that he was bedridden. His plan to get Kyle riled enough to retaliate had succeeded, but not in the way Eric expected.

He didn't consider the possibility of actually feeling _bad_ about the whole thing - especially when it caused the weak elf to have a panic attack.

When he couldn't help but peer around, he caught Kyle in the midst of turning away from Liane's touch, no doubt spurred on by Eric's previous words with him. The moment her face crumpled really made Eric feel like the biggest piece of shit in the universe.

If not Kyle, he didn't mean to upset his own mother.

He hunched his shoulders and turned away, only to jump when he found King Gerald sitting beside him.

"Jesus Christ!" Eric hissed. "Are all elves ninjas or something?"

"There are advantages using stealth among our kind, yes," Gerald said dryly. "Do you want to talk about what happened today?"

Eric looked down at his lap, his cheeks burning with regret. "I…" he began defensively, but then remembered that elves knew a lie when they heard it. He tried to omit as much as he could instead. "I said some mean things to Kyle. He got mad and then had an attack."

"Hmm… I suppose I can't get anything from _either_ of you," the older man decided with pursed lips. "Kyle seemed just as tight-lipped about it as you are."

Eric's head snapped up, almost positive Kyle would have told them everything just to get him in trouble and for good reason too.

"Unfortunately," Gerald continued, "he's still much too young to hide his feelings. I don't need words to know what happened to my son, Eric."

There was a small awkward silence between them. "I… my mom…" Eric couldn't find the words for why he did it aside from just trying to hurt and anger Kyle. He didn't even _know_ Kyle's mother - never even saw a picture of her - but he used her as a weapon against Kyle.

"You wouldn't be the only one to use Kyle's mother against him. As is the opposite for Jerseyans, a mother's death is considered a bad omen among the Drow," Gerald said calmly. "Kyle is too prideful to admit it, but I'm sure he's overheard such words used against him in our own Court. Perhaps not as blunt as you have done, but still the same. Hearing it from the person who would become his husband must have been his breaking point."

The way he said it, cool logic wrapped in a veneer of intentional guilt, cut Eric deep in a way no adult had done. It was easier to be looked at and treated like something to be babied, but King Gerald had caught on and decided that Eric needed to be treated like a person for once. Treating him like an actual threat was probably why Kyle could see through Eric's manipulations so clearly.

"I was mad," Eric grumbled pathetically.

"I know," Gerald sighed. "Your mother is quite fond of Kyle. I've tried to tell her that it wasn't necessary to alter the courtyard, but I didn't have the heart to stop her. So if you're angry at anyone, you can be angry at me."

Confused blue eyes snapped up at the older man, not expecting that kind of answer. Hitting or belittling him seemed more in line to what Eric expected, but _compassion_? After what he knew Eric did?

He stiffened in surprise when Gerald placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Did you ever think that maybe, instead of losing a mother, you'd be gaining a _father_ out of this?" he asked.

Eric's heart completely skipped a beat.

_A father?_

"I would really love Liane to be Kyle's mother-in-law," Gerald admitted with a slight grin. "I believe that he actively seeks and enjoys it when he's coddled by her. I'm not sure what you want out of this, but I hope that this engagement does work out. I'd be honored to be your father if you wish."

_Honored to be his father._

Eric's mouth twisted down to prevent himself from tearing up. He'd never admit the many nights he spent crying, bitterly knowing he had all the power and money in the world - but something as simple as a _dad_ like his friends had was always out of his reach. No man wanted to marry his mother when she was a bar wench and neither did they want to when she became this unreachable queen.

He didn't want to be disappointed in the end when this engagement fell through, so he said nothing. When Garrison arrived and Gerald stood back up, Eric used the distraction to furiously wipe at his eyes.

"Regardless of what your mother believes, I think it's best you and Kyle separate for awhile," Gerald decided after a few short words with his tutor. "What do you think, Garrison?"

"If you value your blood pressure, you will," replied Garrison. "Two weeks, Eric. You stay away from Kyle or I'll stick a bit in your mouth and have you plow a field."

Eric hopped off the bench when his mother finally emerged, playing the part of an unfeeling asshole as usual. "Ha, whatever! I just thought you were trying to _punish_ me, not reward me."

Liane caught his words on the way out. She looked at him, averted her eyes, then left the quarters without so much as saying a word to him.

Maybe _that_ was the real punishment.

* * *

He had been so certain that the King would dissolve the engagement that after that night, Eric was lost of purpose. It wasn't until the third day did he realize how quiet things got or how people seemed to avoid him like the plague.

If Kyle's father didn't offer small talk here and there, he would have gone mad by the vow of silence his mother punished him with, and the garden she was building eventually stopped altogether. Perhaps she was convinced by Gerald to do it for Eric's sake, but for some reason he didn't feel victorious about it.

"Dunno why you were so gung-ho about that piece of shit bit of land in the first place," Garrison had said to him on the fourth day during a tutoring session. "It's not like you actually exercised out there anyways. Or at _all_."

Fuck off. It was _his_ kingdom. If he didn't want a goddamned garden outside, he could very well say so.

"Jesus Christ, you fucked up," Kenny laughed cruelly on the fifth day, "but that's typical. Now you're all angsty and miserable without your elvish punching bag…"

Eric laughed a little louder than usual. "Yeah, okay Kenny. I'm enjoying my _ginger-free_ two weeks. In fact, I might gun for another two!"

She didn't seem convinced, but she played along. "Funny, Kyle said that too. I just think he's more genuine about it than you. But I'm not surprised - he didn't even want us to invite you to the beach party that day. It's hella legit that he thinks you suck."

Now that was un-fucking-called for. Eric stopped laughing, glared at the girl, and stomped away in a huff. And, when he got far enough, he turned back around to bite his thumb at her for good measure.

Kyle wasn't allowed to be _that_ happy with the arrangement. He would have to rectify this.

As usual, there was a guard hovering nearby to block him from getting into Kyle's quarters. It was fine with him because he spent the last half hour perfecting a particular spell just for this occasion. With a confident strut, he gave the female guard his best puppy dog eyes.

"Isn't this a fine evening, Lady Holly?"

She looked up from her post to frown at him suspiciously. "Your highness, you know you're not supposed to be here…"

"Oh, I know," he chirped innocently. "But that's not what I'm here for. I'm just… concerned over what I saw tonight. Perhaps you can help me?"

Her chain mail rustled loudly as she turned. "What grieves you, your highness?"

Eric feigned hesitancy. "Don't be mad, but I saw something really, really weird over by the stables and… lo and behold, there was your husband! But he was doing something so strange, Lady Holly. What kind of game do you think he was doing?"

"A game?" she demanded, catching his bait so easily he could cry.

With a flutter of magic, Eric obediently swirled his hands to show her an image of her husband in the arms of a maid. "I think they're playing horsey, but naked? It's so strange! And it's awfully late to play games though…" he tilted his head in feigned confusion. She squeaked and urgently tried to blow the image away with her hands before the young prince saw anymore illicit acts. 

"I'm gonna hang his entrails from the rafters!" Holly growled before drawing her blade and abandoning her station.  _Sucker._

Eric whistled pleasantly when the door clicked open and he waltzed in. He suddenly choked at the heavy use of incense and candlelight in the heated darkness of Kyle's room. Drawn up in thick blankets, Eric quickly found Kyle hidden beneath them. He hopped on the edge of the bed, jostling it in an attempt to stir.

"Hey Jew," Eric greeted and patted the covers over the boy's head. "Miss me? Of course you fucking did, I'm just so irresistible and all."

Kyle was too stubborn to answer.

"Oh please," he continued with a huff. "You can stop playing the 'I'm so sickly' act. You just had a breathing spell, big fucking whoop. I get that shit every day when Garrison makes me jog and you don't see me wasting away in my room."

More silence.

"Okay, okay!" he snarled. "I'm sorry for saying that shit. It was a low blow and you had every right to kick my ass and get me in trouble. Now, will you please tell mom that everything's cool?"

"What's wrong with your mom?" Kyle asked, which did _not_ come from the bundle of blankets.

Eric shot his head up to find Kyle emerging from the bathroom and confused as hell over who he was talking to. He flipped off the blankets to find a large stuffed elephant beneath it. "What the fuck is this?"

"Biff," Kyle replied as a matter-of-factly.

"Biff? The fuck is Biff?"

He rolled his eyes. "That's the name of my elephant. Gods, did I hit you that hard on the head?"

"What are you, _four?_ "

"I'm seven," Kyle snarled. "I can sleep with a stuffed elephant, asshole!"

Eric shook his head, not wanting to cause another argument this time. "Fine, the fuck ever. Forget the elephant. I'm sorry, okay? Seriously. Now call off your elvish jew-jew over my mom so everything can go back to normal."

Kyle's voice carried through the room. "How many times do I have to tell you that our magic doesn't work that way?! We can't control people!" Eric winced at the volume and shot quick looks at the door just in case.

Despite the threat of getting caught, Eric just couldn't help but egg on. "Well obviously there can't be another reason why she's on your side than mine!"

"She. likes. me." Kyle emphasized in a way that sounded like he was talking to a straight up retard, which wouldn't be too far from the truth in his case. "The universe doesn't revolve around you, Eric."

Eric suppressed the urge to sneer and instead exhaled. Diplomacy. He can do that shit. "I didn't come here to argue with you, Kyle. I just want a compromise."

"You're not even supposed to be here," he retorted and snatched Biff when Eric started to pluck at it.

"If you can't keep your elvish mind tricks from stealing my mom, then it's only fair game that I steal your dad," Eric said seriously. "Have we come to terms like civilized gentlemen? Well… one gentleman and a barbarian with a stuffed elephant."

Kyle pointed at the door. "Just get out of here!" he snarled. "I've already told your mom I don't want the garden, so leave me alone!"

"It's too late, Kyle!" Eric got up from the bed and dusted off his royal bottom. "The landscape's already half-done. Now you've got no choice but to accept. Life's a bitch, ain't it?"

If Kyle knew any better, he might have thought this was Eric's way of trying to patch things up. Maybe he did, but he certainly didn't trust Eric. Not at all. "If you wanted to spend time with my dad, all you had to do was say so," he said flatly. "You don't need to lie and scheme with me to get what you want."

"Oh, but where's the fun in that?" Eric smiled viciously before disappearing behind the partition. Lady Holly was bound to return any minute and, if not her, Kyle's screaming would have definitely alerted someone.

Kyle quickly locked the door that Eric left from and tossed Biff back onto the mattress in disgust. What the hell was his father _thinking_ trying to marry him off to that manipulative, unrepentant son of a bitch?

Biff slid off the bed noisily, taking his trunk and a few stuff on the nightstand with it. A couple of seashells fresh from the shore rolled under the bed and, like Kyle's belief in Eric, unawares and ignored.


	3. Is That Respect You're Showing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'd think he'd take a hint or learn to read.

_The Fifth Summer_

Kupa Keep's generous gift for King Gerald's birthday was a grand ship to sail along the coast. It was much more scenic than riding a caravan through the forests, but the only one who wasn't as ecstatic about the ship had been Kyle. They had found him throwing up over the ornate railings during a practice trip.

Stan had to stop packing the day they were to embark for Kupa Keep in order to help Kyle grind ginger roots into a fine paste. It was supposed to help with his stomach during the journey, but Stan was always skeptical of holistic medicine to start with; especially when the only memory he had was that it almost _killed_ Kyle when he had been extremely ill.

"What are the odds that Eric's planned this from the start?" Kyle asked as he furiously pounded at the root with a mortar.

"You're being paranoid," he answered kindly. "He doesn't know you're seasick."

Kyle paused in mid-smash to give Stan 'that' look. "This is _Eric_ we're talking about, you know."

Stan's grin was so boyish it made Kyle's chest flutter just a little bit. "You're the only person I know who's not flattered that their fiancé knows everything about them."

"That's because he uses it against me!" Kyle swore loudly. He slammed the mortar down and managed to get ginger everywhere. "Remember how he made sure Lady Bebe and the other princesses were pissed off at me for refusing his chocolates?! He _knew_ I was diabetic!"

"To be fair, you did flirt with Princess Nichole a bit," Stan reasoned. "Can you blame the guy for getting all jealous?"

Kyle flushed so brightly it might as well have been a part of his hairline. "I DID NOT flirt with her! And he wasn't JEALOUS! He's a fat, egotistical bastard who gets his kicks out of ruining my life!"

Stan raised his hands up in surrender. "Chill out, your highness. I'm just teasing you."

King Gerald's voice from outside startled their meaningful conversation. "Kyle Broflovski! Get your royal behind out here this instant!"

While Stan started brushing ginger pieces off of his trousers, Kyle groaned and emerged out the balcony to find his father down below and tapping his boot irritatingly at him.

"Why aren't you on the ship yet?"

"I'm seasick, dad!" Kyle whined and flopped forward on the railing. "You'll have to go without me this time!"

Gerald wasn't amused. "Nice try, Kyle. I want you on that ship in fifteen minutes! And I swear if you're not on it, I'll drag you out myself and tie you to the mast the whole trip!"

"His majesty spends _way_ too much time with Lord Garrison," Stan quipped humorously before returning to the literal grind.

* * *

Using a new trick he learned from Garrison, Eric drew back an arrow of magic through his bow and shot it into a shittily drawn picture of Kyle, who looked more like a goblin than an elf. It was a pretty good likeness in his opinion. That honker of a Jew nose just kept growing every single summer.

It scorched the place where it hit - right into Kyle's ugly pimplish mug.

"Hey Kenny, check out my aim! Pretty awesome, huh?"

Kenny paused from her hair twirling from the balcony, her daydreams no doubt drifting to dark hair and gentle blue eyes. She took a good long look at the drawing - then sighed with dispassion. "You know normal human boys just jack off to get rid of that sexual tension."

"You think I'm _attracted_ to that disgusting creature?" Eric sputtered and thumbed the burned picture over his shoulder. "I've seen _orcs_ with more sex appeal!" The venomous look she shot back at him actually caught him off guard. "Tch, what the hell is your problem? Got sand up your frock too?" he jeered before returning to his archery practice.

Butters was off doing God knows what - probably getting caught up repenting for his masturbation sins to the clergy. He wasn't surprised that Butters took up an apprenticeship to become a paladin. Butters couldn't attract maidens to save his _soul_.

He was quickly gaining a healthy amount of scorch marks when his mother barged in his room - this time without knocking - because apparently she forgot she had a _teenaged_ son now.

Liane stepped in, her smile in full force, which immediately deflated when she found the picture. "Now Eric," she chided and folded her arms, "what did I tell you about using your fiancé's likeness for target practice?"

"Don't do it in the castle?" Her narrowed glare made him scoff. "Okay, okay! But you gotta admit, this is pretty awesome, right?"

She allowed herself to smile at her son's arcane accomplishments. "It really is, Eric. You have no idea how mommy's so proud of you!"

"Ugh, gross. Speaking of gross…" The arrow crackled away from his fingertips. "When is Prince Kyle's ship arriving?"

"ERIC THEODORE CARTMAN."

Kenny looked up a second time and giggled. "Your middle name's _Theodore?_ I'm so telling Stan!"

"Ay! You keep that slutty trap of yours shut for once!" Eric snapped, which only earned him another few days of grounding… again.

* * *

"Oh my God," Eric gaped, watching his fiancé step down the giant plank. "You just get _uglier_ every summer!"

"And you get _fatter_ every summer, so we're both royally screwed." Kyle was getting unbearably good at insults. With the presence of Kupa Keep's very populace crowding around the docks with excitement, he stiffly offered his hand for Eric to kiss.

And Eric kissed it alright - then he slobbered all over it for good measure. The risk of catching gingeritis was well worth the pure look of disgust on Kyle's face. While Kyle gagged and furiously tried to wipe off the human germs on his coat, Eric discreetly stepped near the edge of the water to spit in it.

Hinting his mother to give the Drow Kingdom their own ship was probably his favorite scheme - knowing that poor Kyle would get sick each and every journey on it. The elf prince certainly looked green around the edges, though that may have been because Eric just frenched the shit out of his hand.

Despite his seasickness, Kyle really had no other option to travel this time. The usual forest route between the two kingdoms was caught in a natural wildfire that made it extremely difficult for traders and travelers alike. Eric believed it was an ominous sign from God; Kyle's presence would no doubt spell doom for their humble kingdom.

If not, his _face_ surely would. His red curls seemed to get even more outrageous each introduction and his growing face was angled awkwardly. It was like he was still caught between his new preteen growth spurt and what was left of his childhood proportions.

But Eric wasn't really one to talk. His wish to Jesus for an instant beard was all in vain. Instead Jesus decided to laugh and piss him off by giving him a complexion of pimples and a voice that cracked. Kenny kept saying he sounded like someone was squeezing his middle at random times like a squeak toy.

And yes, maybe he _did_ grow a bit more meat around the middle. But that was all muscle according to his mother and implying that the Queen was wrong usually meant a trip to the stocks.

Speaking of stocks… maybe this summer he can scheme his way into getting Kyle locked up in one. Using a drawing for target practice would only go so far… 

His devilish grin broadened when Kyle was giving the plank between land and sea some good consideration. "Glare all you want. Don't delay the inevitable of summer, Kyle!" Eric said before he grabbed Kyle's thin wrist and effortlessly yanked him off the plank.

The cooing and cat calls from the crowd made Kyle tremble with embarrassment and anger when Eric pretended to rub his back like a gentle lover. He knew Kyle wasn't in a position to retaliate with violence in public and risk political backlash. Eric was going to milk the humiliation for everything it was worth.

"Aw, is my poor fiancé seasick from the journey?" he cooed. Kyle's furious shaking was like ambrosia - absolutely delicious. "You can relax in my arms forever, Kahl…"

"My name is not _Kahl_ ," Kyle growled into his shoulder while the sheep of Kupa Keep awed and cheered for their famous couple.

Stan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. They barely got off the ship and already this shit was starting all over again. "Another long summer for me." His deep voice carried enough to delight the younger maidens in attendance. Unlike his royal counterparts, the ranger-in-training was easing into puberty like goddamned butter. It really was unfair.

Eric's nose wrinkled at the leash in Stan's hand after Kyle discreetly shoved him off. "The hell is that? Your ceremonial sacrifice?"

"It's Stan's dog," Kyle said sharply before Eric could launch another spiel about elves being uncivilized. He was working his damned hardest not to pitch his fiance over the dock _already_.

Eric ignored him for once. "The hell you bring a dog for?" he demanded at Stan. "I'm not letting that mongrel in my castle! Did you forget about Mr. Kitty?!"

Stan rolled his eyes and knelt down to scratch his mutt of an animal behind the ears. It wagged its tail and bounded around excitedly. "Don't worry, your highness. Sparky's not staying in the castle. I'm sticking him in the barn."

"And before you bitch again, I said it was okay," Kyle interjected, flashing Stan a gentle grin. "Stan needs to keep training with animals if he wants to complete his apprenticeship. I'm not gonna stifle his dream every summer just because he's my bodyguard."

Stan's grin for his super best friend was so sweet, it made Eric sick to his stomach. "Thanks, your highness."

"Kyle," he corrected wryly.

Stan tried not to laugh. " _Kyle."_

Eric _especially_ didn't like the way Kyle and Stan kept looking at each other so intimately. "Whatever," he snapped, willfully tearing into such a tender, sickening moment. "So long as you're not _eating_ it, you can keep it out in the cold if you want. This kingdom has standards, you know. We don't eat dog or wear their fur like barbarians."

That did it. Kyle broke eye contact to focus back onto Eric just the way he wanted. "Don't belittle my culture, fatass!"

"Ay! Don't call me fat, you fucking elf!"

They all jumped when Lord Garrison swooped upon them and snarled, "ALL OF YOU GET YOUR ASSES TO THE CARRIAGE RIGHT NOW!"

* * *

Sparky wasn't the only new addition to Kyle's growing entourage. A crippled boy with a lute followed the royal family to learn human ballads as a kind of cultural exchange process. Eric for once didn't feel pissed off with another elf gracing his castle. Jimmy was actually pretty funny at times with his wisecracks.

Way interesting than _Kyle_ at least.

And to further continue a successful courtship, Queen Liane hereby ordered more quality time to be spent for Eric and Kyle, much to their displeasure. Even Eric's own private tutoring sessions were to be shared and it pissed him off to no end.

What was supposed to be Eric showing off his new martial magic, Kyle put a stop to his ego by besting him in every test Garrison offered. From summoning killer plants to creating a tornado that zipped through the room, he easily sent Eric flat onto his back in magical combat.

His mood soured the moment Garrison decided that Kyle was the better wizard of the two by the end of the day.

"Well ain't this a goddamned embarrassment to mankind!" Garrison barked. Kyle simply rolled his eyes and left Eric to deal with his xenophobic tutor. "You better double your ass down on your studies, Eric! I'll be damned to the seven hells before I see a _foreigner_ do better than our own future king!"

He didn't think explaining that the marriage would make said foreigner a _citizen_ did well for Garrison's blood pressure so Eric left the lesson pissed off at both his tutor _and_ Kyle.

But it didn't take very long for him to get back at Kyle for his wounded pride. Apparently Butters' absence was due to his apprenticing in carpentry.

"Why?" Eric asked flatly.

Butters blinked innocently at him. "W-why what?"

"You're not a woodsmith Butters, you're supposed to be training to be a paladin!"

"I am! This is a part of my apprenticeship!"

"What the flying fuck does _carpentry_ have to do with smiting the corrupted?!" Eric demanded.

"Because _Jesus_ did it!" he explained defensively. "And therefore it's part of my divine apprenticeship. That's what Friar Maxi told me!"

That was the stupidest thing he ever heard, but whatever. Not one to piss away a tradeskill, he ordered Butters to design and build a treehouse. Eric found the action petty, but hell, it worked wonders pissing off Kyle when Team Drow Elves found themselves sequestered below the shoddily made structure with no way for them to reach.

"Whoa!" Stan remarked in awe. "Hey, can we climb up too?!"

Eric waved lazily from the window. "Sorry Stan, but you're a Drow elf by proxy. We don't let elves _or_ human traitors into our secret clubhouse!"

"Y-yeah!" Butters shouted weakly. "No stupid Drow elves allowed!"

Kenny was useless as usual. She kept shimmying her shoulders seductively at Stan and blowing kisses at him. "Stan can come up!" she muffled excitedly.

"No he can't!" Eric snarled at her. "He's Kyle's lapdog! I don't want either of them in my new kingdom!"

Kyle scoffed and folded his arms. "Some kingdom you have! Just a shitty wooden box that's gonna break under your fat ass!"

"At least I _have_ a shitty wooden box, Kyle!"

Jimmy tried a more peaceful route. "N-n-now, c-co-come o-o-o-on, you guys. A s-simple act of diplo-dip-diiiihiiip-d-dip.. a simple act of dihiii-diplii-dip-diiii… A simple act of diiiii-plomacy goes a long way to forge a l-l-long term partnership."

"And it's probably fun with more of us," Stan agreed eagerly. "Come on, just drop down the rope! Jimmy learned a new song at the tavern the other day! It's pretty perverted!"

Butters was easily convinced. "Oodalalee! I love lute music! Your highness, maybe just this once-"

Eric was surrounded by _idiots_. "Shut the hells up, Butters! They're just using their elf mind tricks to entrance you!"

Kyle stomped his foot down. "Diplomacy isn't elf mind tricks, Eric!"

"Say whatever the hell you want Kyle, but you'll find I'm immune to your seductive influences," Eric replied. Kyle flushed hotly at the remark.

Stan quickly stopped his prince from huffing and walking away. "Oh come on, Kyle! Can't you convince your own fiancé to drop the ladder?"

"NO!" Kyle snapped. "Did you forget this is Eric _Theodore_ Cartman we're talking about here?!"

Eric swirled angrily at Kenny, who started to cackle. "MOTHERFUCKER!"

But even Kyle couldn't refuse when Stan pouted at him like that. "I… ARRRG!" He turned back around and took a deep breath.

"Eric, your mom wanted us to spend more time together," he began, "but do you even understand what that means? We're going to rule the kingdom together, but if you can't even offer to bridge this… thing between us, what will happen when we're divided on an issue?"

The human prince frowned unpleasantly at him. "Kyle… don't you do it…! I'm warning you!" He plugged his ears to avoid another fucking long-winded speech.

Kyle continued, his voice growing louder to compensate. "I know it's hard, Eric. You don't like me and I don't like you, but our kingdoms are more than us! The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one. If we just respect each other and be civilized, maybe we can salvage this stupid farce of an engagement. That's the whole point of these stupid summer meet ups, Eric! Sure we hate each other's guts, but we have to swallow the hate down for the future of our kingdoms! That _includes_ inviting us to your shitty wooden treehouse!"

"Is he seriously doing this?! There he goes again with his gay ass speeches!" Eric shouted, which caused the treehouse to creak dangerously, as Kyle foretold, due to his weight. "Every cool thing I do, you always have a fucking speech prepared! No one gives a shit about your speeches, Kyle! You fucking killjoy!"

" _You're_ the killjoy!" Kyle shrieked back. "You almost broke your neck last summer trying to tame a wild griffin! If I didn't tell Lord Mackey, you couldn't have _died!_ You think you're some sort of god? Don't you give a shit about what would happen to your country without an heir?"

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Guys, do we really have to deal with your sexual tension today?"

"Seriously," Kenny sighed.

The two princes ignored them - lost in their own little world where the only thing that mattered was who could out-argue the other.

"You're not the boss of me, Kyle!" Eric shrieked.

Kyle's green eyes seemed to darken with promise. "I will be the moment you say _'I do'_."

Something in Eric's chest fluttered at the confidence of Kyle's words. "Y-Yeah," he stuttered in an attempt to save face, "…well until then you keep your pie hole shut, you fucking Jew!"

"You know what c-c-could c-c-calm us all d-down?" Jimmy offered and pulled out his lute. "A l-lo-lovely song. What do you s-s-say, c-chaps?"

But Kyle and Eric were much too busy glaring each other down to answer. Jimmy took the silence as a positive response and began plucking on the strings.

**_♪ There once was a maiden from S-s-s-stonebury Hollow… ♫_ **

Jimmy didn't take into account of the magic that usually poured into his ballads. The wooden walls of the shoddily made fort creaked dangerously from the vibrations coming from his lute.

**_♪ She didn't talk much, but boy, did she sw-swa-s-swallow. ♫_ **

The treehouse trembled beneath Eric. "Jimmy! Knock it off!"

**_♪ I had a nice lance that she sat up-p-po-pon… ♫_ **

Kyle's eyes widened when the treehouse shuddered down one level, making the preteens inside yelp in horror. "Hold on, Jimmy! Stop…!"

"Oh shit!" Stan shouted and tried to pull Kyle out of the way after realizing they were standing right under the collapsing structure.

_**♪ The maiden from Stonebury who is also your mom! ♫** _

The large wooden pillar used to prop up the treehouse snapped from the vibration and fell by Kyle and Stan's feet. After a dangerous beat, the rest of the structure came crashing down upon them along with the shrill screams from Team Kupa Keep.

_"AHAHGHAGHGAHHH!"_

From the other side of the courtyard, Mackey looked up from his tea. "Mmm… did you hear that, Lord Garrison? Sounded like dying jabberwocky, m'kay."

Garrison returned to his beer with disinterest. "Sounds like a bunch of teenage bastards getting in trouble again. I'm telling you Mackey, this country's going to hell in a hand basket and we're along for the ride. You what that ride is?"

"Uh…"

"Getting _fucked_ , that's what it is," he continued sourly. "Just bend over and take the pounding of your life right in your ass. That's what it feels like in this job, Mackey!"

"Hmm… perhaps that's why you enjoy it so much, m'kay," Mackey murmured before returning to his tea.

Once the dust settled, there left on the grass were broken wood planks and the occasional limb sticking out. Ironically, the only one left unscathed was Jimmy, who could only look on in awe.

"O-op-oops, I guess I li-literally b-br-brought the house down!"

"Heh, heh! Hehehehehe…" Butters' weak chuckle could be barely heard through the crying and groaning from the rest of the preteens.

"Wow, w-wh-what a great audience!"

* * *

Maybe the look on their parents' face was worth the six weeks spent in casts and the grounding of the century. Butters got it especially bad from his folks for endangering the life of not one, but TWO royals for his shitty craftsmanship and they actually had him hauled to the stocks. It was so hilarious, Jimmy asked if he could pen a ballad about it.

Eric would have bought three vegetable carts to use on Butters, but Kyle's withering glare forced him to buy two instead - and even then he had to let his guards do the throwing for him. Breaking both of his arms was a real bitch.

As autumn rolled around, a visiting painter hitchhiked on Kyle's returning ship to offer Eric a gift in exchange for spending the winter in Kupa Keep. Despite his request for a portrait of Brian Boitano, the elvish man gave him an actual decent portrait of Kyle in all his elvish glory. His mother positively squealed and demanded that he put it up on his bedroom wall to remember Kyle by.

Obviously she wanted Eric to suffer having that ugly mug watch him as he slept from now on. As if he needed any _more_ night terrors, thanks.

Cast-free and able to see out of _both_ eyes again, Eric decided there was more to celebrate aside from going the rest of the year without seeing Kyle again.

Grinning, he lined up the magically infused arrow at his new target. It really was an uncanny portrait - it even highlighted those red curls in artificial light. Unfortunately, it wasn't the hair he was aiming for. Nothing was going to stop him from taking his sweet time getting Kyle right between the eyes.

But the sound of the elvish farewell horn drew him to pause. Like a siren's song, Eric lowered his weapon, crossed to the balcony and searched the slow moving ship for a familiar ugly face.

From far off, Kyle looked like he had just finished emptying his breakfast over the port side of the ship. Eric smirked almost fondly when Kyle buried his head into his arms to center himself from the swaying on deck.

As if sensing someone was watching him, Kyle suddenly snapped his head up and gazed curiously around until he focused upward and to the castle - particularly Eric's own tower - and those unflattering green eyes locked onto his in surprise.

They have never really _looked_ at each other without their filthy mouths getting in the way to ruin it. Eric suddenly straightened his shoulders back like he was some kind of fluffed up peacock. Something told him that Kyle was seriously sizing him up, but for what he had no clue.

Whatever Kyle was searching for seemed to satisfy him enough to push away from the railing and offer a really strange smile - like he found amusement with something that was highly suspicious to the human prince.

Eric flushed when Kyle winked at him and laughed his way below deck.

He could only stand there dumbfounded and, deciding the tiny ache in his gut was due to hunger, simply left his room to do - well, he couldn't really muster the ability to put a single thought together.

The well-made portrait was left remarkably unscorched for the next nine months.


	4. On Which They Didn't Disagree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The very thought of summertime was dreaded.

_The Tenth Summer_

Last summer, Apprentice Ranger Stan fell completely head over heels in love with a girl named Wendy, who was the daughter of a visiting diplomat from a republic where it was ruled entirely by women.

Eric  _still_ couldn't stop laughing about it. Especially since Kenny reduced herself to weeping every second in every hallway since the rumors were confirmed, but he already knew about Kenny's long-standing attraction to Stan.

It was  _Kyle's_ reaction that really put the cherry on the cake. With Stan preferring to follow Lady Wendy around like a pathetic dog, the loss of his best friend really did a number on Kyle's confidence. Their usual back and forth of insults were less enthusiastic and Kyle even let Eric win most of the time if Stan was within earshot. All in all, aside from Stan's new romantic status, it was a total bore.

But perhaps this year did have its milestone. Stan wasn't the only one who began a profound interest in romance. Eric had shared his first kiss with someone and no, it _wasn't_ Kyle.

It had been rather impulsive and, now that Eric thought about it, not exactly the earth-shattering true love's kiss legends foretold, but one rife with hormones and urgency. Patty Nelson was a mysterious and unique witch who came from a line of warlocks that delved in the cool darker shit like necromancy and puppeteering. While she taught him the finer points of questionable magic in exchange for safe passage to the northern lands, a spark did ignite between them over the winter months.

The point was he kept this a secret. Not even _Butters_ knew the little tryst he had with Patty and he liked to keep it that way. It wasn't special, but it sure taught him a lot, and long after her patriarch-centered clan headed up north when spring arrived, they parted on solid terms. But Lord Mackey did warn him previously about how intuitive elves can get - especially regarding significant others - and so Eric really had to keep everything on the down-low to prevent Kyle from finding out.

He had to keep admitting to himself that it had nothing to do with guilt. He just didn't want to get punched in the face.

So he decided to be a little nicer to Kyle this summer - hold back the insults, compliment him, and maybe try to be a decent fiancé for once in his miserable life. It was easier said than done, but Eric was always determined to follow through with his plans. If he could just pretend Kyle was _decent_ looking, it'd be much easier to put up the ruse.

When the Drow ship finally pulled into harbor, Eric's stomach seemed to flip-flop when a familiar ginger disembarked with a cool swagger he'd never seen before.

Eric realized he didn't have to pretend Kyle was kind of cute… in an ugly duckling sort of way, of course.

Puberty was finally starting to even out for Kyle. His facial features were much more aligned and narrow as he grew into his giant honker of a nose - befitting for someone with elf blood running through his veins. Kyle also seemed to be getting proper grooming tips from someone because his wild curls were modestly cut back and flattered for his pale complexion.

Once upon a time, those faint freckles would have caused a reasonable person to run in fright. This time, it merely accentuated how exotic Kyle really was on his transition from boy to man. And when he smiled sweetly at a few maidens who offered him the newest harvest of apples, Eric found that his adult teeth were grown in and perfectly aligned.

He was still pretty damn short though, Eric decided ruefully. No amount of hair care products were going to erase that ugly face from eons past. Whatever happened before summer rolled around, Kyle didn't look at Eric like he was a bug that needed to be stepped on. He seemed much calmer and more mellowed out when he offered his hand to Eric as per their usual greeting.

This time, Eric didn't childishly ruin the action. His lips pressed firmly against Kyle's knuckles which made Kyle's green eyes soften when he stood back up.

"You've gotten…" Kyle began before he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. "…less hideous."

Eric's eyes were ready to bulge out of their sockets, unable to process this ultra-rare compliment. Of course, Kyle was right - he may have been a late bloomer in comparison to his other peers, but Eric finally caught up with them over the past two years. His shoulders were filling out and he was getting taller so all that fat had to deviate  _somewhere_. He wasn't a musclebound freak out of an adventurous ballad like Stan was; he was still heavy, something he would refute until his death bed, but… he was good. _Bear-like_ even, according to Kenny. Bears kicked ass.

All that mattered was that the maidens finally looked at him too, the barrel-chested stud muffin he was destined to be, though Kyle would swear up and down that it had more to do with the fact that well, he was  _royalty_. Everybody wanted a piece of that fat majestic pie.

Kyle's eyes widened in alarm when Eric offered him a smile and a bouquet of flowers - handpicked to make sure he wasn't allergic to any of them this time.

"What's this?" he asked wearily.

"Flowers, duh," replied Eric. He blinked when Kyle curiously accepted the flowers and seemed… hopeful.

"There something you want to tell me?"

Eric schooled his best puzzled look. "Uh… no?"

Little by little, that hopefulness was fading. When it was obvious that Eric had nothing to say about the bouquet, Kyle exhaled through his nose in defeat. "I see…"

"Jesus Christ, I can't give a gift to my own fiancé without a reason attached to it?" Eric accused, catching Kyle's frustration like a disease.

Kyle's disappointed expression turned cold. He shoved the bouquet back into Eric's arms.

"No… you can't," he said, uncaring of the murmurs rising up from some of the people witnessing the lovers' spat. Whatever test Kyle gave him, he had undoubtedly failed like usual. He brushed past Eric like he was just another townsperson in his path and headed for the carriage.

Stunned for a second, Eric immediately stalked after him and made sure the carriage door was slammed shut first before laying down the law. "The fuck is your problem?" he demanded, sliding into the opposite side before tossing the bouquet on Kyle's lap. "You on the rag or something?"

"You liked it, didn't you?" Kyle's question turned Eric cold with fear. "You can't even tell me because you did."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Kyle," Eric replied in his best business tone.

The air around Kyle was magically charged. "The covenant when we got engaged, asshole. Our parents made sure we can sense when the other strays. I know you kissed someone."

"No I didn't," Eric said automatically, flushing.

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "Yes, you did."

"Okay, okay, I did. So the fuck what? I didn't ask for this engagement you know!" he spat out bitterly. "It never occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, I'd be interested in someone I'm not forced to marry?!"

"I've considered it," Kyle replied and spent the time glaring at the flowers on his lap. "You know what's the difference between you and me? I don't fool around with someone else despite being engaged to the biggest asshole on the planet." The flowers suddenly spontaneously combusted before dying in a crumble of ash and debris at Eric's feet. Kyle looked at him coldly. "Well?"

"Well what?" Eric snapped.

"Normal people apologize for shit like this," Kyle growled, revealing that Jersey flair that occasionally turned Eric on. "Maybe if you get on your knees now and beg, I'll forgive you."

He was tempted, especially when Kyle was looking at him with such heat he himself might spontaneously combust. Eric would just be perfectly fine getting on his hands and knees and… well shit, his thoughts took a strange turn.

"I'm not apologizing for shit," Eric defied, his ego overruling his dick this time. "I didn't do anything wrong.  _You_ , on the other hand, should apologize for destroying the flowers I picked for you."

"You're deflecting again," Kyle said coolly and turned to the window, effectively ending the feud. "But I guess that won't matter in the end."

Eric's brow furrowed. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" But Kyle gave no response the rest of the ride.

Little did Eric know that his mouth would only get him into bigger trouble than just using it for kissing.

* * *

After a long meeting between King Gerald and Queen Liane, they called their sons over to the main sitting room for a grim announcement.

"I think… given the circumstances, I have to agree with Gerald's reasoning," Liane said sadly. "We might have to dissolve the engagement."

Eric thought he'd cheer and celebrate hearing his mother say the very words he'd been wishing for the last eight years. But hearing it now, the finality of the statement, and Kyle sitting right beside him in a way that he might as well have been in a completely galaxy altogether, made his blood run cold.

"Well that's a relief," Eric managed to say, "but what finally got you guys seeing sense?"

Liane and Gerald shot each other an uncomfortable look before answering. "There may be an incompatibility issue," Gerald answered delicately. "We suppose it was an odd engagement to start with the two of you being boys, but…"

"But Kyle has told us the specifics of you infringing on the covenant, sweetie," she finished. "Especially what became of it."

That reminded him. "And what's this shit about an  _engagement covenant_? He can tell when I'm making out with someone else?" Eric interrupted. "Where the fuck is my privacy in all of this?!"

His mother raised a hand to calm him down. "Sweetie, all engagement contracts are made this way. It's just how it is."

"As royals, there are certain… behaviors you must adhere to in the public eye," Gerald elaborated carefully. "A scandal can make or break a kingdom, you know. To be merry and fool around could be seen as irresponsible and no amount of tax breaks can fix a wounded reputation. With Kyle in tune to your… rebellious side, he can do damage control and vice versa for you."

Eric grew more irritated by the second. "Well, that's just fucking swell, ain't it? I don't have privacy, I can't do fun shit, and Kyle gets a first row seat watching me jack it!"

"Eric!" Liane warned. "Watch your language!"

Gerald shook his head at her. "It's fine. But the covenant subject is just a small part of this meeting. Kyle thinks you may be more attracted to… erm… the fairer sex. As you know, we'd never force any of our children into a marriage that can't be fulfilled wholeheartedly. This needs to be addressed."

Eric shot a look of disgust at Kyle. "And you! You have a lot of nerve dragging them into this," he said, taking note of how red Kyle's cheeks were getting. "Were you that upset over a stupid kiss? Now we've got to hear the fucking birds and the bees from them!"

"I like  _bees_  just fine," Kyle growled, finally locking eyes with Eric for the first time since the introductions. He couldn't beat Eric anymore on the head about this. "You're the one that's interested in the birds."

Eric began to sputter and turn red. "Okay, just because I kissed a _girl_ doesn't mean much shit!" he snarled. "It just means I like kissing!"

Gerald quickly got out of his seat and made a beeline for the minibar. "Yeah, I can't handle this, Liane. Do you think you can talk this out with them?"

"I've never understood men being so uncomfortable talking about sex and yet being so involved in it," she replied serenely. "An open dialogue puts us all on the right page. Eric, do you think you're capable of having a sexual relationship with Kyle in the future?"

"MOM!" Eric squeaked while Gerald coughed into his whiskey. Kyle groaned and covered his eyes in embarrassment. _Was that really necessary?_

She patiently waited for everyone to get a hold of themselves. "It's a simple question, Eric. You're almost an adult. You can give me an adult answer. If you think it's possible, we'll continue as planned with the engagement but Kyle has a right to be legitimately concerned. It's still early. We can end it if you wish."

That was when Eric realized exactly what Kyle was trying to do. "You planned this from the start, didn't you?" he accused.

Kyle seemed tired. "I just don't want to…" he trailed off and simply focused on a painting in the far left corner of the room. He had told Stan this weeks ago when he sensed infidelity on Eric's part through the covenant. But saying it now? In front of Eric and their parents? He didn't think he could salvage enough dignity to say it.

"Don't want to what?" Liane asked kindly, then blinked when Gerald shook his head at her again.

"Why don't we spend a few days thinking about it?" Gerald requested. "And maybe let Eric sort out his feelings on the issue?"

Eric folded his arms. "I don't have anything to sort out, okay?!"

"Then just tell them you can't go through with it!" Kyle snapped angrily. "Tell them and we can put an end to this once and for all!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Eric jeered. "I can't believe you'd resort to this kind of shit just to put me in my place!"

Like an arrow drawn and let go with a snap, Kyle jumped to his feet. "I don't want to be with an asshole who's not even attracted to me!" he screamed, causing Liane to wince and plug her ears.

Eric quickly followed out of his seat, embarrassed and insulted throughout this whole ordeal. "Well, get fucking used to it! I'm not breaking the engagement!"

"Vindictive fuck!" Kyle hissed, before exiting the room with a loud slam of the double doors.

So much for being nice the rest of the summer. Eric began scrubbing away the snarl from his face before pulling his hair back and cursing incoherently. What the fuck was he trying to say? Kyle gave him an out and he didn't even take it when he had the very chance.

He just couldn't deny it anymore. The thought of Kyle leaving for good didn't sit well with him - not when they were sort of _something_. Regardless of Kyle's assurance that elves weren't capable of controlling people, Eric thought he long felt a snare of something between them. No matter how hard he fought it, he just couldn't go without Kyle's presence. It was like opium or crack. It was pure addiction.

Getting rid of the engagement just wasn't an option anymore.

* * *

 _An eye for an eye._  Kenny suggested that to fix this clusterfuck Kyle should try kissing someone else to even the playing field.

The thought made Eric surprisingly sick. "Who'd want to kiss Kyle and live to tell the tale?" he joked weakly.

Kenny rolled her eyes. "God, you're so damn obvious, it _hurts_ to hear it. Just tell Kyle you're sorry and have sex ever after."

They were in the midst of a very boring lunch in the grand dining hall. Eric, Kenny, and Butters were the only ones in attendance. Usually the others would join them, but Jimmy was halfway across the kingdom tavern hopping with the other bards for songs and stories.

Kyle on the other hand was determined to keep his distance from Eric and ordered meals to be brought up to his room. And because Stan was Kyle's little boy toy, he kept by his side as usual for 'emotional support'.

The start of this summer was beginning to feel extremely empty without the occasional argument or random lute chords filling the room.

On the seventh day of this tense silence, it came to the point that Eric couldn't even eat his favorite meal anymore. He pushed the plate away for the third time this week, much to his friends' horror. "I don't get what's his fucking problem! So I kissed a girl, big fucking whoop! I've got hormones! I'm a teenager! I'm stuck in an engagement! Of course I'm gonna seek out other people!"

"Did you know that elves become extremely territorial when they pick a mate?" Kenny placed her chin on the palm of her hand with a secretive smile. "That's why the King hasn't taken a new wife since Kyle's mom. They mate for life… and  _death_."

Butters looked up from his bible study. "Oh… wow… that's pretty romantic! A bit creepy, but still romantic!"

Eric scoffed. "You make it sound like Kyle is seriously considering that we…" he dropped his fork at Kenny's impish smile. "Well fuck me."

"No thanks," Kenny sniffed in mock sadness. "I'm saving myself for Staaaan."

He ignored her. Was Kyle actually attracted to him?  _Genuinely?_ He didn't know whether to be horrified or ecstatic. Maybe both.

Something had to be done about this.

* * *

Maybe he really  _did_  have sand up his frock, but every time Kyle would look at Eric, he would remember exactly how it felt when his human betrothed pulled another body to his and kissed her with wonder and excitement.

Eric never showed any kind of actual interest in Kyle like he did to that mystery girl. It was almost off-putting. Despite hating the human's guts half the time, Kyle was sincere to admit there were a few things that did make Eric attractive - he was charismatic, resourceful, and a natural born leader - all of which would make Eric a very powerful and capable king.

Kyle really wished he didn't feel jealousy, because that's what it was. Pure jealousy. Eric willingly gave his first kiss away to someone else - a rather humiliating thing to experience for a betrothal. If his court ever found out, Kyle didn't think he could survive the shaming and gossip that came with it.

They always knew Kyle was a bad omen. This would only cement the truth and poor Stan would have to deal with the fallout afterwards. He knew Kyle would be extremely insecure when the superstitious morons that made up the elvish court would start looking at him again like some plague to be purged.

"This would be a whole lot easier if you just talked to his highness," Stan sighed and shifted a bit on the plush cushion on the floor. "Tell him that you like him and all that."

"I don't -" Kyle began but faltered at Stan's warning look. He sighed and closed his book. "I can't," he stressed, folding his legs. "The moment I say anything like that, he'll use it against me."

Stan sat up. "So you admit it then? That you actually like him?"

Kyle's brow furrowed and he started running his fingers through his curls in frustration. "I don't really know. Sometimes I think about, you know… and other times it disgusts me. Does that make sense?"

Someone was knocking on the door to his quarters before Stan could answer him. "I'll get it," he reassured his prince before getting up and disappearing behind the ornate partition.

Disturbed and unsettled by his confession to Stan, Kyle tried going back to his book. If he could focus on anything but his thoughts - the fact that Eric sought another… okay, he wasn't a godsdamned damsel. He had better things to do than focus on stupid shit like this.

Like running a country. Everything else had to wait.

The door closed again without so much as a peep from Stan, so Kyle assumed it was just a servant checking up on them. Puzzling over the scripture, Kyle raised his hand up over his shoulder when he heard Stan approach from behind. "Can you hand me a quill, Stan? These can't be right…"

He looked up from his book when familiar coarse fingers ran down his palm, taking him by surprise. Kyle's heart jumped into his throat when he found Eric hovering from behind with that stupid, conniving, but  _handsome_  grin of his.

"We need to talk, Kyle," he said, entwining their fingers together.

"I thought you were sick of my speeches," Kyle scoffed dryly before tugging at their interlocked hands. He yelped when Eric effortlessly pulled him up from his cushion and drew him in close enough that his stomach curled from the pleasant smell of freshly cooked bread.

He wasn't really surprised that Eric smelled like a fucking kitchen.

Eric's other hand ran gently up his silky tunic before cupping his jaw. "I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "I shouldn't have kissed her."

"Don't worry about it," Kyle muttered and tried to tug away. Eric's grip was pretty impressive, or perhaps Kyle was just half-assing it the entire time. "This was a shitty engagement to start with. I can't blame you… I just…"

"You want to kiss me, don't you?" Eric purred, his breath against Kyle's temple. "You're pissed that I squandered mine on some random bitch instead of giving it to you."

Kyle looked down. He couldn't lie - elves don't lie on a whim. "Yes," he hissed. "You piece of shit."

Eric laughed and tilted Kyle's head so far back, the half-elf would have keeled backwards if not for his firm grip. "It's not too late to fix it, Kyle," he said confidently and swiped his thumb across Kyle's protesting lips. "After all, we still have _one_ first kiss left."

Before Kyle could suppress the harsh beating in his chest, Eric pressed his lips against his.

A small sound of surprise escaped Kyle's throat - because his lips were far too preoccupied yielding to Eric's well-able mouth. Then a soft moan quickly followed the moment he felt Eric's tongue slide in and deepen the contact.

Kyle found himself a gasping, breathless mess when Eric finally sent him up for air. 

"Mmm yeah… you like that?" he whispered in that ridiculous husky purr that always made Kyle shiver hearing it. Kyle shut him up real quick by wrapping his arms around his neck and kissed him soundly again.

He seriously couldn't get over how tender and sweet Eric could be with the right incentive. Or maybe he knew, but couldn't believe it could happen. The only time he had ever seen Eric sweet around anything was either his mom or godforsaken alley cats.

To have that part of Eric directed to him and only him, seemed too much like a bitter dream.

And he was fucking right.

Kyle gasped and snapped his head back up from where he had rest it on the desk. The sensation of just coming down from a grand height made him press his palms to his face to center himself. The horror finally set in after a few seconds. "Oh gods no…" he shuddered out in disbelief. "There's no way… This can't be happening!"

He dreamed about Eric kissing the shit out of him - and he actually  _enjoyed_  it.

Then it dawned on him that Stan hadn't even been here to start with. He had spent the entire midday practicing with Sparky and wouldn't be home until dinner.

But someone was still knocking on the door. Shaking off the horrible nightmare, Kyle composed himself and opened it to find an elven guard around his age saluting him and bowing.

"Your highness, Prince Eric wishes to speak with you," announced Lord Donnely.

Kyle's eyes widened. Oh gods… it was just like his dream! But this was reality and he was much more cognizant, but perhaps more neurotic than usual.

Before Eric could pop his head over the guard's shoulder to say hello, Kyle was determined not to give Eric the satisfaction of stealing his own first kiss - not when he couldn't even be assed to save his own.

He instantly grabbed Lord Donnelly by the leather straps of his chest armor and planted his lips hard against the blond's. His poor guard could only stand there stunned while his prince kissed the shit out of him and really, it began to dawn on Kyle just how shitty he planned this at the last moment.

Kyle drew away just quick enough to see Eric's stunned features contort in anger.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

* * *

They found themselves back in the same chairs in the sitting room. Only this time, Kyle had his head between his knees in utter shame for what he did. Poor Chris… he really didn't deserve to land in the infirmary just because Eric was a fucking  _psychopath_.

Eric, on the other hand, was settled in a mixture of annoyance and satisfaction. He occasionally rubbed at his sore knuckles, but it only started to hurt when he grabbed a lance from the closest suit of armor and beat the guard senseless after the first punch. He really didn't see what was the big deal - he had been extremely merciful using only the blunt end of it.

Kyle avoided his father's stern glare and cringed when Liane sat beside Gerald to begin.

Her words were soft. "Well… um…"

"Do you want to talk about what happened, Kyle?" Gerald cut in. Kyle hitched his shoulders up at the sharp tone.

Before he could reasonably explain himself, Eric decided to answer for him. "Isn't it obvious, dad? Apparently, I'm the only one who takes this engagement seriously! I try to be an amazing fiancé, but oh no! Kyle has to go and flirt with the castle guards! Your son's out of control!"

Eric's scathing quips was the only thing that brought Kyle's voice back. "You nearly killed Lord Donnely!" he retorted hotly. "How's that for lack of control?! And stop calling him dad!"

"Well soooorry for trying to protect your honor, Kyle!" Eric snapped back in the seat right next to him. "Next time I'll just let him dig out the sand up your frock."

"I DON'T HAVE SAND UP MY FROCK!"

To Gerald's surprise, Liane started to politely giggle behind her hand. It quickly turned into a joyous laugh, though for a second the boys thought she finally went off her rocker. "Oh dear…" she wiped a tear from her eye. "I'm just so glad you boys are back to normal!"

"This is normal?" Gerald raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you see?" she asked eagerly. "Look how they're talking to each other again! I was so worried…"

Both Eric and Kyle shot a look of disbelief at each other before back at Liane, who could only beam at them with such relief they couldn't help but feel guilty about it in their own way.

Gerald tilted his head at them. "I suppose you've got a point… there's that energy coming back for sure."

"Perhaps we've been a bit overhasty," she agreed. "Maybe we don't have to reconsider the engagement at all!"

"Hmm… what do you think, Kyle?" Gerald asked his son. "Since this whole thing started because of your doubt, it only makes sense you give the final decision."

Kyle ignored the way Eric's gaze seem to burn against cheek. "Seriously?"

Liane shrugged. "Well, Eric displayed quite an aggressive attitude towards other potential suitors, so I sincerely believe there's a chance he does find you attractive."

"I'm right here you know," Eric said flatly. "Wouldn't you want an insider's source about what rustles my chainmail instead?"

Kyle groaned in disgust. "I'm gonna be sick."

Eric dutifully ignored him. "While my standards vastly is out of a certain half-elf's reach, I am going to do the mature thing. For the sake of my kingdom, I'll have to put aside my freedom and keep the engagement. I'll have no problem fulfilling Kyle's needs. For now at least."

"How very mature of you, Eric," Gerald nodded with a stroke of pride.

"Thanks dad."

Kyle wanted to gag. "Oh please! He's just messing with you guys!" As far as he was concerned, Eric just wanted him to suffer, but for what he had no clue. Eric was in the wrong, not him!

Gerald frowned at him. "Kyle, at least keep an open mind here. Eric doesn't seem to have a problem with engagement. Do you?"

"No!" Kyle spat out before he could even think it through. "Eric's a loose cannon! I'm doing the kingdom a favor by keeping his destructive attitude off the market!"

Eric stretched his arms behind his head. "Ooh, here comes that famous martyrdom. Haven't seen that in what, three days?"

Raising his hands up in surrender, Gerald rose from his chair with Liane following. "Consider this matter settled, then."

"Great," Kyle grumbled and folded his arms.

"Super," drawled Eric as their parents closed the door behind them, leaving a very tense silence in their wake.

Eric crossed his ankles, ever a vision of laziness. "…you know Kyle, two wrongs don't make a right."

Kyle glared at him. "Are you saying what you did was wrong too?"

"I'm not saying shit. Stop putting words in my mouth…" Eric replied with a tiny nose flare. "Are we cool? Can we just put this shit behind us?"

He sighed and crossed his fingers together. "…yeah. It's stupid. First kisses are for fucking fairytales."

"Preach."

It was the second time in recent memory where they just kept their silence, content to just be around each other for the sake of it. Still, Kyle couldn't help but ask, "So was it good?"

He could have meant anything - was breakfast good, was his fresh underwear good - but Eric seemed to have understood what Kyle meant.

Eric shrugged, much to Kyle's relief. "Meh… I mean, I got kissed, so that was nice. You?"

"Same. But I bet yours was better."

"Can't argue with that," he said smugly. The afterglow just couldn't be that special during a beat-down, no matter how masochistic a person may be.

Kyle sat back and comfortably crossed his legs. "It's just weird," he admitted. "You were so…" He couldn't help the thrum of excitement run up his spine at the memory. "… _brutal_."

Eric shrugged again and closed his eyes. Now he understood why Kyle was so pissed in the first place. The covenant bound them so tightly it was like someone had ripped into his chest and tried to squeeze his heart into a bloody pulp watching Kyle kiss someone else. It hadn't been pleasant. Not at all.

"You'd think first kisses would be so exciting," Kyle sighed. "but it kind of sucked." Of course, that was entirely his fault anyways. It wasn't like he had been attracted to Chris to start with.

"It's never the first kiss that's important," replied Eric. He opened one eye to find Kyle watching him with rapt attention. "It's true love's kiss."

The way Eric seemed to look at him made Kyle hunch his shoulders up in defense. "…you don't think…?"

"…ah, ha. No, I don't think so," Still, Eric looked a bit unsure. "I mean, do you…?

"I guess we'll never know until it's too late," Kyle replied somberly and looked away.

For the first time in his life, Eric didn't know how to respond to that.


	5. I Think I've Won Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think you really sort of like him, fess up.

_The Eleventh Summer_

The feud didn't end despite another year of maturity - it only simmered down into a warm, almost flirtatious smolder at least on Eric's end. Though occasionally Eric would still do stupid immature shit like making faces or sticking bunny ears at Kyle behind his back, especially during the open carriage ride through town where Kyle would be much too busy waving to notice.

But there were no more kisses of infidelity. They both learned that the hard way.

Eventually, they started taking up even _more_ etiquette lessons to prepare their future as rulers of the kingdom. With Eric sitting uncomfortably on the throne, Kyle seemed more at ease beside him. He even flashed a bored look at him when Eric complained about the stiff cushions.

"Many royal assholes has sat on that throne. Show some respect," Kyle drawled, which made Eric laugh loud enough to make himself comfortable again.

With Queen Liane on Eric's side and King Gerald on Kyle's, the two adults supervised their royal decrees as actual villagers arrived in large throngs to speak of grievances within the kingdom.

Lord Mackey raised his hands to the commoners waiting patiently in line. "M'kay people, this is a practice day for the young heirs. The keyword here is _'practice'_ , m'kay?. Just tell them your problems as you would to the Queen and everything will be fine. Now, keep in mind if the Queen finds their decision unreasonable, don't be a Debbie-downer about it. At the end of the day the Queen gives the final word, m'kay?"

Eric mimicked under his breath, "M'kay, Lord Mackey. Just gonna sit here and make some hip-hoppity decisions, m'kay?" That stupid flutter in his stomach happened again when Kyle grinned in his direction.

Mackey turned around. "Was there something you'd like to add, your highnesses?"

"No, we're all good, m'kay?" Kyle replied in his best Mackey impression, which made Eric snicker.

"M'kay."

 _"M'kay,"_ Both princes answered in unison.

"Hmm…" Mackey deliberated and turned back around before he could catch the two silently giggle like mature young men.

King Gerald looked down severely at his son, which caused Kyle to clam up immediately. He shot an exasperated glare instead at Eric, who returned with a sweet smile and a wink.

Anticipating a disaster in progress, Lord Garrison began massaging his temple. "Oh, this'll be fucking great. I've got a front row seat watching these yahoos make an ass of this kingdom."

"Quiet Garrison, or I'll give you a good hanging!" Eric sneered and shoved the scepter right under Lord Garrison's nose. "I can do that now."

Kyle crossed his legs and propped his cheek on his hand. "No you can't," he said flatly.

"Are we really going to be arguing during the whole affair?" Eric whined. "You better remember that you're marrying  _into_  this kingdom, Kyle. I'M the king around here. You're just the pretty throne candy on my right."

"We'll see about that," Kyle promised, flashing those emerald green eyes at him. That righteous temper was just beginning to sizzle beneath the surface - just the way Eric liked his ugly Jewish elves.

Gerald shot a telltale look at Liane, who began biting her lip with worry. Sure their chemistry was a little quirky, but she was more worried about how they meshed ruling the kingdom. Everything began and ended in the throne room. Fuck ups could spell doom for an entire kingdom.

"Ah, this reminds me of my first royal decree with Sheila. We bickered quite a bit too," Gerald proclaimed suddenly, drawing everyone's attention before an elderly farmer nervously approached. "Boys, this kingdom will definitely appreciate two different approaches in the matters of state. But keep in mind that to provide the best decree, you both must work as _one_. The key to a powerful court is a unanimous front from both ends."

"That's right," Liane smiled down at them. "With Kyle's moral center and Eric's leadership, there's nothing you guys can't accomplish!"

Eric and Kyle moaned in embarrassment.

"Laaaame…" Eric grumbled.

"Gods, I need an ale," Garrison groaned.

When the first villager bowed before them to speak his peace, the poor man's knee must have been horribly sore by the end of it. The judgment was deliberated for almost a _half hour_ because every decision Eric tried to make was circumvented by Kyle's liberal counters and, completely sidetracked trying to outwit Kyle, made Garrison actually quit for the kitchens for something strong to drink.

"All I'm saying," Kyle continued through the grit in his teeth, "is that who are you to act as judge, jury, _and_ executioner without probable evidence?"

"Here's a newsflash, Kyle," Eric retorted. "I'm KING. If I say they need to be hanged after a hundred and fifty lashes, then they're gonna get hanged after a hundred and fifty lashes!"

Kyle glared and leaned forward on his side of the throne. "Keep flashing all this 'I'm a king' justification and all we're left with is a tyrant with power-issues! How can you inspire your subjects to stand by you if you keep answering every squabble with a hanging?!"

"A firm king is a prosperous king, Kyle! You think this kingdom would benefit from a ruler that second-guesses himself? The Grand Wizard King of Kupa Keep follows his gut! That's how we've won  _our_ wars! Not through diplomacy or whatever wimpy shit you elves do!"

Liane shot an apologetic look at Gerald, who only answered with a long-suffering sigh.

"If we followed  _your_  massive gut, your subjects would be dying off from hunger!" Kyle snarled.

"Ay! I don't need no lip from a scheming, backstabbing elf!"

Mackey looked desperately between the two boys and silently prayed that the future wouldn't be this bleak. "Um… m'kay, your highnesses? This is just a dispute about a couple of children stealing apples from this farmer's orchard, m'kay? A simple answer about whether we permit a taller fence is in order, that's all."

"Oh my God, are they _still_ at it?" Garrison exclaimed, returning with a half-full tankard of ale and pleasantly drunk. "What serving number are we on?"

"It's still the first villager," Mackey noted wearily while Kyle and Eric continued to argue with each other.

Garrison looked at his drink and then back to the King and Queen. "Listen, we're gonna be here all fucking day - might as well drink to take the edge off."

"Against my better judgement? I can go for some booze," Gerald replied with a sigh.

Liane bit her lip seriously considering it.

* * *

Their parents were full on drunk before Kyle and Eric got through half the waiting list. Eventually Mackey had to call it short for the day to avoid actually giving the villagers bad advice from all  _four_ rulers (plus Garrison's own unnecessary input), and decided to take the young ones on a 'relaxing' tour of the kingdom while their parents tried to sober up.

Eric shot a concerned look at his mother before Mackey literally kicked both his and Kyle's asses out the door and THAT was more grueling than the royal decrees. Mackey's own dry retelling of the history of each building to the pedigree of a random cow even brought intellectually-savvy  _Kyle_ down on his knees begging him to stop.

By the end of midday, Eric ended up sprawled and exhausted on the open carriage. He didn't even mind when Kyle flopped close by next to him and started undoing his stupid ascot. "On second thought," Eric murmured, "I don't want to be king anymore."

Kyle tilted his head up, revealing green eyes dulled from all the history lessons. It was strangely intimate to see Kyle in such an unguarded state. "I suppose that's your plan all along - playing the sympathy card so you can secretly elope with Patty Nelson," he uttered bitterly.

"Is that why you've been so bitchy the last few days?" Eric grinned. "How long did it take you to investigate her name? So jealous."

"Not even close," he snorted, his gaze dropping to the few open buttons on Eric's jacket. He blinked, as if catching himself, and looked away.

Eric swallowed hard. Maybe it was how exhausting the day was or maybe he was still amped up from the three-hour long debate in the throne room, but he instinctively reached up and tugged at the back of Kyle's stunning red locks like a child seeking attention. His hair was extremely soft to the touch and, as Eric curled his fingers pleasantly through them, Kyle let out a tiny hum of pleasure that only encouraged Eric to continue.

"Mmm… what are you doing?" Kyle murmured softly.

Eric answered by slanting his head forward just a bit, but just _enough_ to imagine the feel of those soft lips against his…

"Hey your highnesses!" Butters' voice snapped two of Eric's neurons together. "Nice day we're having, don't you think?"

_Goddammit Butters._

Kyle yelped in alarm when Eric shoved him to the opposite side of the carriage. "B-Butters!" Eric pronounced loudly. "Your precise timing is a credit to this kingdom!"

"It is?" Butters inquired curiously while Kyle still reeled from the shove.

Eric leaned back and tried to secretly rub the blush from his face. "Yup. You saved me from the Jewish voodoo spell Kyle was trying to put on me. Good job Paladin Butters!"

"You can't be serious," Kyle demanded. "To think I…" He floundered before shaking his head. "…you haven't changed at all, asshole!"

Butters could only frown in disappointment at Kyle. "Now, your highness, we're friends and all, but you really shouldn't be using your wily elvish magic on our prince. I mean, you're already engaged to him so…"

"I DIDN'T USE ANYTHING OF THAT SORT!" he screamed. "That fat turd's lying!"

"Wow, way to just devolve into name-calling, Kyle. Real mature…" Eric teased, using the distraction to get rid of the thumping in his chest. " _How can you inspire your subjects to stand by you if you keep answering every squabble with petty insults?"_

Kyle could only sit there dumbfounded by Eric's off and on maturity. Expecting a shouting match, Eric was surprised that Kyle instead took a calming breath before climbing out of the carriage.

Eric blinked in confusion. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"If I have to deal with your shit any longer, I think I might actually jump off a cliff," Kyle replied seriously before grabbing his cloak.

Butters floundered after him, not liking that idea at all. "But your highness, you can't go anywhere without an armed guard - let alone a chaperone!"

"Seriously Butters what the hell do you care?" Kyle challenged. "After all, I'm just a scheming no-good Jew. I should fit right in with the criminals in the area."

"Damn straight you would," Eric grunted, but his jaw clicked tight at the idea of Kyle roaming alone. He adopted a more familiar tactic. "I thought Prince Kyle was oh so responsible and mature, but I guess all he is is just baby with sand up his frock."

Kyle viciously bit his thumb at him and, before Eric could blink, disappeared quickly into the crowd.

"Fuuuuuuck," Eric groaned at the failure and slumped forward. What the hell was wrong with him?

Kenny, having followed alongside Butters the entire time, slid into the empty seat and amused herself by Eric's hot-and-cold attitude. "Why didn't you just listen to your dick for once?"

"Up yours, Kenny," Eric snapped before climbing out of the carriage himself. If he didn't find Kyle soon and drag his elvish ass back to the castle, his mother would never forgive him. Butters instantly glued to his side, mumbling under his breath about getting grounded for losing their foreign prince.

"Hope it was worth the victory," Kenny continued in her singsong voice before lounging on the plush seats. 

* * *

With his hood draped over his head, Kyle wandered around the marketplace and took in the sight of humans browsing or running back and forth on the cobblestone streets. Shopkeepers with well-trained eyes loudly announced their fabulous wares as Kyle walked past - no doubt his nobleman attire tipped them off. He was pretty sure no one recognized that he was the elf prince thanks to his hood, but it was still uninspiring to be treated like a rich citizen anyways.

So he sought a more intimate road off the path and down a shadowed alleyway that definitely spelled trouble. His thoughts about turning back were dashed the moment his sensitive ears heard the shrill sound of a fair maiden further down. Determined, he quickly pressed forward to investigate the area.

Just as he turned the corner, he found a poor common girl with dull brown curls hassled by a group of slovenly dressed sailors - or, he _thought_ they were sailors.

"Hey!" Kyle snarled. "Leave her alone!"

The dark-haired, olive skinned young man glanced at him with such boredom, it was unsettling. "Hey look. Some nobleman's playing hero. How much do you think he's worth?"

What Kyle presumed was the leader straightened and turned. "If he was a lass, he'd be worth a lot," he said with a tell-tale grin. "but he looks like a loud mouth. Ye want to hear him complainin' the whole time we wait for the bounty?"

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "You couldn't take me down if you tried, shithead."

"Hey lads," the brunette leader jeered, "check the mouth on this one! If I didn't know any better, I'd say ye were a Jerseyan. Ye are, aren't ye?"

He flinched. "How'd you know?"

"I recognize that accent anywhere. Even when ye try to hide it so well," he replied with a shrug. "We've sailed on the shore so many times, Ah've lost count. Yer wenches are hella amazing, by the way. So thumbs up for that."

But no official navy fleet from _any_ kingdom were allowed to visit Jersey's shores. It was home to the destitute of all sea hounds where the lawless only followed the swell of the ocean. "You're pirates," Kyle spat out in realization.

"Well aren't ye clever ain't he, Craig?" he asked the dark haired boy, who only shrugged.

"Whatever."

They all started when a man's booming voice filled the alleyway. "REBECCA!"

The girl trapped under the twitching blond teen's hands easily snapped away and went running. "O-oh! Sh-she got away!"

His leader rolled his eyes. "Goddammit, Tweek!"

"S-sorry Clyde!"

Clyde sighed and snapped over his shoulder, "It's CAPTAIN Donovan! And ye ruined our fun, Jerseyan! 'Ow abou' a generous contribution for yer trouble? I bet yer gold drags those lovely pockets down, yeh?"

"What are you talking about?" Kyle said with a dangerous grin. "The party's just getting started!"

The pirates took a cautious step back as ivy literally broke through the cracks of stone by Kyle's feet and inched their way towards them like parasites.

"S-sh-shit, Clyde!" Tweek jittered out in horror. "He's a magic user! Oh god!"

With a smirk, Clyde pulled out his broadsword and started to hack at the plants when it started to overwhelm them. "Don't be a puss! It's just some flowers!"

Kyle lowered his head as the vines began their retreat, for they were waiting for their master to fuel them with more power as his magic blossomed from deep within. He called upon all living plants within radius, asking them to sacrifice every ounce of energy for him to absorb and wield. Then, once the plant life from the earth below was drained and burning through his core, Kyle snapped his head up and released the a flurry of vines that threatened to engulf the entire group whole.

"Fuck!" Clyde shouted. One vine wrapped around his sword to disarm him before he was entangled and carried upward to a considerable height. "Hey! Let me go!"

* * *

Eric paused from his search when a woman screamed about her flowers. Stopping Butters with his outstretched arm, he headed over to the shop lady who could only watch tearfully as her plants withered and died right in front of their eyes.

"Oh Jesus merciful heavens…" Butters poked at a dead flower. "They've gone all bad!"

There was only one magic user he knew in the entire kingdom who used plants in such an unholy fashion.

"Fuck!" Eric muttered before chasing after the line of dying plant life in his wake.

"W-wait, your highness!"

* * *

Drawing out his knife, Craig flipped and danced past every vine in his path with a precision befitting a rogue in order to cut its very source. Kyle barely managed to dodge out of the slinging blade before summoning a whirlwind that sent Craig flying into a line of hanging clothes. He grit his teeth when part of his hood was slashed up, revealing a pointed ear and red curls. Blood dripped lightly from the sharp precised cut on his cheek.

Clyde shouted angrily as he dangled overhead. "Make yerself useful, Tweek! Ye shite fer brains!"

"Ack! Too much pressure!" Tweek freaked before he grabbed a flask from his belt and drank it down. To Kyle's surprise, Tweek began to shake uncontrollably and, like night and day, berserked his way in tackling one of his man-eating plants that was twice his size.

The fourth boy, who remained silent the entire time, decided to just bail. Kyle swished his wrist as an afterthought and entrapped the boy's entire lower half in a tree. "Agh!" the familiar voice cried out. "Let me go, please!"

"Nonsense," Kyle promised, throwing away his ruined hood along with his cloak. "I'm handing you outlaws to the Captain of the Guard."

The boy in the tree squirmed desperately. "No, come on! We were just…" He squinted at him. "Prince Kyle?"

Brow furrowed, Kyle approached the boy and threw off the red scarf around his face. "Prince Token?!" How could he not recognize those exotic dark features - a prominent look from the myriad kingdoms of Mino'Rity. His shock slowly replaced itself with a deadpan glare. "I'm telling."

"Oooooh… you're in trouble, Token," Craig commented from his nest of rope and bloomers.

"Oh, c'mon Kyle!" Token begged. "We were just playing around! Please don't tell my parents - they'll never let me see my friends again!"

"You've picked some really shitty friends, Token. Pirates?  _Really?_  You know Eric already shits on you for being a Mino'Rity - do you really want him to know you're consorting with outlaws like the stereotype he believes you are?"

The dark-skinned prince continued to squirm inside the tree trunk. "They don't cause trouble here in Kupa Keep, Kyle, you know me! I wouldn't let them do that! When their ship sank off the coast, they needed gold. I'm just trying to help them get a new ship!"

"By attacking the women?!" Kyle barked.

Dazed, Craig threw off a pair of bloomers attached to his head. "Rebecca Cotswalds isn't a woman. She's kind of a slut."

Clyde snickered. "Ye don't know the sound of a good lass wailin', do ye, Prince Kyle? It may be good fortune that ye did come 'round before her father do it for ye."

"Ignore them, Kyle!" Token urged desperately. "Can't we let bygones be bygones? They won't bother anyone anymore, I promise!"

"Aye, we parley," Clyde offered with a good natured grin. "And a pirate never betrays the Code!"

Kyle deliberated for a long moment and sighed. He was always a sucker trying to find the good in everyone. "You owe me one so bad, Token."

"Anything!" he replied and, as Kyle made a cutting motion across his neck, the plants slowly retreated and shrink away to their final death knell. Clyde cursed loudly as he fell hard on his ass and Tweek blinked himself out of his caffeine frenzy just as he started tearing through the carnivorous plant with his teeth.

Craig smoothly jumped down and pocketed his knife. "That's pretty nifty. Can all elves do that?"

"Hmm…" Kyle rubbed the back of his neck in thought. "Not really." What he did had no doubt caused some kind of detriment to the local flora in the vicinity. Taking life from nature wasn't something to be proud of, but he did it anyways for the sake of pragmatism.

He'll have to offer some kind of tribute to his gods later to avoid incurring their wrath.

Clyde took back his broadsword and had no problem foisting an arm around Kyle's shoulders like he wasn't just attacked by mutant plants. "Yer green thumb is handy, yer highness. Ye'd make a fine addition to our crew if ye want."

"No thanks," Kyle said dryly and almost flinched in alarm when Token reached for his cheek. A tiny thread of healing magic curled against the cut skin there and weaved it together. "I keep forgetting you're a cleric, Token, sorry," he admitted.

"Yeah it's my bad," Token grinned apologetically. "I keep forgetting that elves value their personal space. You might wanna reign it in a bit,  _Captain_."

Clyde pulled away and raised his arms in the air in surrender when Kyle glared at him to move. "Tell ye what, why don't we celebrate our new-found freedom with some rum an' ale, eh?" he asked grandly and patted Tweek hard on the back instead, who coughed out a leaf. "It ain't every day I get to share a brew with royalty!"

"Token's a royal," Craig pointed out neutrally.

"Token doesn' count!"

* * *

Butters was mildly impressed by Prince Eric's tracking skills. "Wow, your highness! The bond between you and Prince Kyle must be pretty strong!"

"Yeah, it had nothing to do with following the plant corpses," Eric said sarcastically. Whatever Kyle did, it must have been a very brutal battle. When they found a deserted alleyway covered in dead rotting plants, he knew this was where Kyle divvied up all the plant energy he collected.

He ignored the tightness in his throat when he saw a bit of blood on the ground. Butters quickly knelt down and held his palm above it. By divine casting, the blood turned pure white by his magic and then settled back to red.

"Your highness…!" Butters squeaked in worry. "It's elven blood!"

Eric said nothing. All he seemed capable of doing was staring at the blood and cursing Kyle for being so goddamn stupid - and then he cursed  _himself_  for letting Kyle leave the carriage in the first place without a fight.

Not too far off they found Kyle's cloak torn and bloodied as well. Eric picked the ruined fabric up and twisted it in his hands. "God fucking dammit," he cursed and, with purpose, followed the trail of more dead plants with Butters at his heels.

The trail stopped at a shit tavern sandwiched between two dilapidated houses.  _The_   _Giggling Donkey_ was etched in faded letters on a sign. 

Butters almost ran into his highness' back from the sudden stop. "What's wrong, your highness?"

Eric stiffened at the familiar smell of rotting wood and cheap ale drifting from the constantly opening door and broken windows. He hadn't been in this godforsaken place in over fifteen years and yet here it was still open for business while Eric wished it had been burnt down and forgotten. 

"Eric?" The human prince found Butters watching him anxiously over his shoulder. "I know it looks awful scary, but Prince Kyle could be in danger! They could be r-raping him or something!"

"I really doubt it'd get _that_ far, Butters," Eric replied dryly, knowing first hand just how dangerous Kyle could be with the right encouragement. He willed his boots to move anyways for the sake of finding out. "Don't fall behind, paladin. I'm sure whatever lowlife scum in there would have no problem making you their bitch."

Not one to enjoy being anyone's bitch, Butters quickly unhooked his stone hammer and stayed close to his prince. "Ahhh! Coming!" 

The patrons inside the tavern were in full force drinking and howling loudly to the sound of a lute strumming in fortissimo. Eric couldn't even step in before a drunken mine worker waltzed on past him with a squealing bar maid in his arms. Wrinkling his nose in pure disgust, he took a deep breath and zeroed in on the only ginger at a table with Prince Token and a band of unsavory young men. Fear and anger hit him so hard it was making him shake. 

"Prince Kyle!" Butters exclaimed, disturbing three rowdy tables in his mindless pursuit to protect the crown. "Are you alright? We thought you were being raped!"

The whole table paused in the middle of Clyde's story. Kyle stared at him. "What?"

Eric narrowed his eyes once he found the strength to stalk forward. The sooner they got out of this piece of shit tavern, the better. "Are you happy, Kyle? You made Butters think you were being raped!"

"But I'm  _not_  being raped," Kyle snickered and tilted his head to the side in a way that made him look coy. "Gods you guys can be so… funny!"

"Are you drunk?" Eric demanded. Everyone had a dirtied beer flask on the table except for the him, but Kyle looked pretty fucking hammered for a sober man.

Raising his tankard, Clyde imparted some wisdom to the human prince. "Aye, what's the point of bein' in a tavern if ye ain't plannin' on sleepin' under the table?"

"And who the fuck are you?" Eric snarled at the easy-going Captain.

Kyle rolled his eyes and grabbed Eric's arm. "My new friends!" he said cheerfully. "Don't tell dad but…" his voice tapered into a dramatic whisper. "They're  _pirates_."

"Pirates," he repeated blandly. "And they told you this, did they?"

"Mmhmm."

Eric snorted unpleasantly at Clyde. "You're either retards or the ballsiest sons of bitches in Zaron," he hissed. "This kingdom has no sympathy hanging lawless swashbucklers on sight."

Undeterred, Kyle patted Eric reassuringly on the hand. "It's okay… I gave them a royal… hic- pardon. They're gooooood pirates."

"Yeah," Craig said simply over his mug. "We're  _good_ pirates."

Eric thought that sounded like an ominous threat. He pulled Kyle up from his seat by the forearm. "The only  _good_  pirates are  _dead_  pirates. If I see you fuckers in my kingdom again, I'll be more than happy to watch you squirm under a noose."

"Jesus, your highness. Just chill," Clyde laughed and gestured to an empty chair. "Have a pint and join us!"

"I don't drink," Eric snarled viciously. " _Ever._ "

Kyle made a sound of discontent before tugging away from Eric. "Would you s-stop ruining everything? They're cool guys! Way cooler than you!"

"I find that really hard to believe," said Eric dismissively before sneering at him. "And look at yourself, Kyle. Drunk as a fucking skunk! First you leave without an escort and now you're in a seedy bar with a couple of pirates! Where's that fucking moral sense you keep preaching about?!"

He laughed bitterly. "That went down the drain the moment I met you! You're a parasite, Eric Cartman! You corrupt everything you touch!"

It was the energy of the bar and its drunken, horny patrons that seeped into his elvish fiancé like a surface poison. Kyle didn't need to drink to be this tipsy - the very emotional air around them did it for him.

Still, Kyle's words cut Eric hard like barbed wire. He stood there like an idiot in the middle of the busy tavern while Kyle was determined to find a seat at the bar, unaware that it was the exact same seat Eric sat on when he was much younger.

Token got out of his chair to apologize to Eric. "We should take him out of this environment," Token said sheepishly. "He didn't drink a single thing, but it's the atmosphere. Elves are weird like that."

Nodding numbly, Eric took a trip down shit memory lane just walking over and taking the bar stool next to Kyle, who had finally buried his head into his arms as happy hour quickly rolled in.

"You're so distressed…" Kyle mumbled loud enough for Eric to hear over the noise. "I can feel it more than anything in this room."

Before Eric could open his mouth, an aged strumpet in a tattered corset pressed against his shoulder already reeking of booze. "Hey big guy, looking to take a gander up my frock?"

Eric stiffened and shook his head. "Jesus Christ, Minnie."

The woman frowned. "No one's called me Minnie in…" Her eyes widened and, grabbing his chin, Eric obediently turned his head so she can get a good look at him. "Well fuck me! Eric? Is that you?"

Kyle blearily looked up. "You know this woman?"

"Of course!" Minnie cooed in a harsh low voice that made Kyle's sensitive ears cringe. "Known 'im since he was a babe. Me and his mum used to trawl this tavern every night for some game, innit right Eric?"

Eric flushed with humiliation and glared at the spotted counter, ignoring the look of surprise Kyle was giving him.

Minnie continued on like it was as innocent as picking up breakfast. "Now, this was before his mum was this fancy-schmancy queen. 'Ow lucky was she having the good ol' thumper with the king she was - and then being with child of royal blood! She never talk abou' me, does she? Gotten spoiled by power and riches, I suppose?"

Kyle frowned with mild worry as Eric's jaw worked itself into a grind of teeth. "Eric…?" His father never told him how Liane became queen. He told him it wasn't important so Kyle always filed away her simply being widowed. But this… this had to be some kind of lie.

 _So why was Eric not saying anything?!_  he thought with frustration.

"Ye look so tense, dearie. Dunno why yer so upset!" Minnie laughed and pressed a clawed hand against Eric's thick bicep. "Yer mum did good not flushin' ye down the toilet. I'm sure she thought abou' it once or twice. Poor thing didn' even have enough to feed herself and had to give it all to you! Seems like she gave ye a bit too much though - but I like men with a little meat on 'im, I say."

He didn't want to hear anymore. Horrified, Kyle placed a hand on Eric's forearm and shook it. "Let's go," he urged gently. "Take me home." He shook harder when Eric didn't seem responsive to his words. Those dark blue eyes were lost in bitterness and nostalgia. " _Eric_."

Doubled by the covenant, Kyle was drowning in Eric's open shame and low self-esteem the more the woman talked about Liane and the life she and Eric had before they ascended the throne. Like how Liane slept with a different man every night - sometimes more than one if she got lucky - and was paid through meager coin or food. Or when she got so drunk she let every man have a go at her on the very table Clyde and his crew were currently sitting in, all the while her infant son slept beneath a dusty wine rack at the back of the bar.

But none of it distressed Kyle more than Eric's silence throughout the entire retelling. He _allowed_ this woman to slander his own mother's name without refuting it.

He reached his breaking point.

"No more…!" Kyle begged the woman desperately. "Just go the fuck away!"

Minnie's nose crinkled in displeasure. "That your elf fiancé everyone's been talkin' about?" she asked Eric, who continued to stare at nothing. "Rude fucker, if ye ask me. If the marriage doesn't go the way ye like, yer always welcome to the Giggling Donkey. I know I wouldn't mind havin' a bit of a tumble with a hunk like ye." She winked crudely at Eric before shuffling away for her latest prey.

Kyle felt absolutely sick. He hurried out of his seat, pulled as hard as he could at Eric's jacket and managed to move the lethargic pile of his once passionate fiancé towards the door.

"Let's go, Butters!" Kyle snapped over his shoulder.

Blissfully unaware of what happened during his chat with Clyde about cursed treasure, Butters stumbled over an upturned chair in an attempt to follow them back to the carriage.

* * *

By the time they returned to the castle it was already nightfall - mostly because Mackey had been hysterically chewing them out for disappearing. But when he realized that Eric was being unnaturally silent throughout the lecture, Mackey decided that some warm food and royal comfort would be good for everyone on this stressful day.

Every time Kyle would look at Eric on the way home, he just seemed so lost and far away. It was only when they returned home did sense finally return to Eric - and not in a good way.

They discovered that after an entire day of drinking, Queen Liane had not sobered up in time for the boys to come home like Gerald did. Her hips swayed enticingly as she walked and, upon seeing Kyle, beamed and pulled her future son-in-law tight against her breasts. "Oh, Kyle! I'm so happy to see you tonight!"

"I'm happy to see you too, your majesty," Kyle muffled nervously into her collarbone. Over her shoulder, Eric looked down in absolute shame and clenched his fingers so tight they were turning pure white. 

"Noooo… call me _mom_. You can call me mom, can't you?" she pleaded, cupping his face between her soft palms. "M-O-M." She tapped the tip of his nose with her forefinger for each letter. 

Kyle offered her a kind smile. "Mo-"

"Don't force him, mother," Eric said coldly. 

Liane huffed and turned to her son. "Oh sweetie… why can't you let Kyle call me mom? I just want him to call me mom…" 

"It's okay," Kyle promised him. " _Mom._ See? I can call you mom."

Eric finally snapped. "No you can't! You're just forcing yourself to!"

"I'm not!" he said desperately because Eric just didn't seem to believe him. He looked to his father for answers, but he seemed just as puzzled by this whole exchange. 

Blissfully unawares, Liane simply hummed a random tune and nearly tripped on her own dress. Gerald quickly caught her before Eric could. "Liane, maybe it's time for everyone to tuck in tonight? Start fresh and all. What do you say, boys?"

Eric's world literally broke apart the moment his mother tugged seductively at Gerald's collar. "Would you like to tuck me in as well, Gerald?" 

He couldn't bear to witness the look on Kyle's face. Before Gerald could even stutter out an answer, Eric viciously grabbed his mother by the upper arms and dragged her to the stairwell before she embarrassed them even further. "Take the queen upstairs," he barked to a couple of servants who quickly helped Liane upstairs. "And make sure she _stays_ there."

His back was stiff and straight as everyone watched Liane stumble a bit going up the grand staircase and, in a very uncharacteristic move, Eric bowed deeply to Kyle and Gerald.

"I'm sorry for my mother's behavior," he recited in a way that seemed as if he had done this before. "Please don't let this incident be a reflection of this court."

Kyle could only look at him with pity. "Eric…"

"It's okay, son," Gerald told Eric kindly. "It happens. We all got a little out of hand today. Don't worry about it."

Eric nodded and, without another word or glance, followed his mother up the stairs. Kyle knew the truth about him and his mother now - the whore and the poor son.

* * *

Despite blowing all the candles away for the night, Eric didn't feel like sleeping - he just wasn't the mood to entertain unwanted sympathizers like Mackey or Gerald. Instead he spent the stroke of midnight pacing his quarters until he eventually collapsed onto his bed to stare at the ceiling.

He didn't want anyone to ever see his mother become that person again. Now he had to accept that the other two most important people in his life were probably second guessing him and his mother as trash for their behavior. That was what he didn't want to believe. He didn't want anyone - especially Kyle - to look at him like a charity case.

He'd rather be looked at as an equal than as something to be pitied and looked down upon.

There was a knock on his door, but he refused to answer.

"I know you're awake, Eric," Kyle's voice muffled through. "Let me in."

Eric turned to his side in response, but the knocking continued. He ignored it again.

"Fine, don't open it," Kyle sighed, setting the flicker of light down on the ground as he sat against the door. Eric could see the magic filter in from the crack in the corner of his eye. "You just lay there and I'll talk, okay?"

He said nothing.

"I know you won't believe me, but what happened in the Giggling Donkey… that was bad," Kyle admitted. "No one ever told me your mom wasn't of royal blood. Dad never told me  _anything_  about it. But now I know why. He didn't care what she did in the past. It doesn't matter."

Kyle paused for a second to draw his robes tight around him - his arms just wanted to hold something so desperately it was the best he could do at the moment. "I don't care where you came from, Eric. You're still my asshole fiancé and Queen Liane is still the sweet and kind woman I've known forever now. Nothing is going to change it."

Eric let out a shuddering exhale, fighting the urge to throw open the door and just let Kyle in. He wanted to so bad that it was actually starting to physically hurt.

"I just wanted you to know that, okay?" Kyle said softly and thumped the back of his head against the door. "Everything's okay, Eric. It is. We're still going to be here in the morning.  _I'll_ stillbe here in the morning… because I know you'd hate that."

An exhausted smile broke through on Eric's face, followed by a short distressed sob that he suppressed with his arm so Kyle wouldn't hear. He wanted - what he truly wanted…

He wanted Kyle to hold him and prove he wasn't bullshitting, unaware that Kyle wanted the exact same thing. Unable to hold onto his pride or dignity any longer, Eric quickly jumped out of his bed, threw open the door, but found no one there. His smile crumpled and, for a despairing second, he almost believed that Kyle being here was just wishful thinking on his part.

But he looked down and found the tiny ball of light still alive and fluttering near his feet.


	6. My Idea of Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd like him better if he'd lose at cards.

_The Twelfth Summer_

The second month of summer was a blur of studies and training. After two disastrous attempts at royal decrees, Mackey was at his wit's end until Gerald suggested they try a more intimate tactic. Instead of another morning in the throne room, Eric and Kyle got dressed up and played host to a gaggle of dignitaries from each province for the annual trade and commerce meetings. From there, each individual territory in Kupa Keep offered a diversity of problems for them to address and sink their teeth into.

On one hand, Kyle was actually excited at the idea of negotiation, as it meant learning more about each provinces and what the kingdom could do to improve the quality of life. Eric, on the other, was single-mindedly interested in what taxes he'd like to raise to fill the kingdom's coffers and how to strengthen their military forces. Both had merit, King Gerald had said, when Kyle was in the midst of complaining. A poor kingdom was an ineffective kingdom AND a cruel kingdom was a kingdom on the verge of civil disobedience.

For the sake of harmony, Mackey divided the negotiations between the two heirs. While Eric used that silver tongue of his to economize from their urban provinces, Kyle was given the ones that required solutions regarding social policy. Throughout most of the day, they were quite surprised by how well Eric and Kyle worked as a team so long as they were physically divided on certain issues. It was a strange harmony, but then again they were a difficult pair to start with.

Kyle had sat beside Eric and simply listened while his counterpart played the part of a businessman almost as easy as breathing. The way Eric moved his hands, spoke with deliberation, charmed the pants off the delegates with a quick tongue, and refused to bow down to trickery or underhanded loopholes impressed Kyle so much it was starting to make Eric uncomfortable.

"What?" Eric asked after the dignitary left their table. The whole time Kyle was just looking at him, not with irritation or displeasure, but with  _interest_.

Kyle cleared his throat and looked away. "Nothing. I can't stare?"

"You can stare all you want," Eric purred. "Just remember that I'm out of your league."

"Out of YOUR league, you mean," Kyle snorted and, after a begrudging moment, admitted, "Raising the taxes on extra guards was a pretty clever idea. I never thought of that before."

Eric hid his blush by drinking from an absurdly large goblet.

The next round of negotiations were an utter bore for Eric. With Kyle's turn to shine, he dealt with the growing divide between the farmers and its ruling class in one of their more diverse populaces in the kingdom.

But there was more to the divide than just a matter of poverty. According to Kyle's third dignitary, refugees from the Great North were trickling in on a day-to-day basis. The ruling countess wanted guidance from the crown as to how to deal with them on her land.

"Well that's easy," Eric drawled before Kyle could even answer. "Kick them out. I don't want no goddamned illegal immigrants on my land!" He let out a very painful bark when Kyle pinched his thigh underneath the table.

"I believe this is  _my_  expertise?" Kyle shot a warning glance at Eric. "I've kept my silence. Now you keep yours."

"And let you open up the gates for every dirty illegal? I don't think so, Kyle!"

His cool composure crumpled into a snarl. "You didn't even give me the chance to speak!"

"Oh I know exactly what you're going to say," Eric continued nastily in a high-pitched voice. _'"They're not all bad, they must have some kind of trade skill'_  or  _'helping the needy will jack up karma with the gods…_ "

Kyle started to growl, flaring up that typical Jersey attitude when things went sour for them. Liane opened her mouth to interfere, but was stopped by Gerald's firm hand, a shake of his head, and mouthed, ' _Let them work it out.'_

"How can we get anything done in this kingdom if you can't trust me to delegate on my own?" Kyle demanded, ignoring the meek interruptions by the dignitary. "I'm not going to sit my ass on the throne and look pretty while you make all the decisions!"

"Well, that's too fucking bad, ain't it? It's  _my_  kingdom!"

 _"OUR_  kingdom!" Kyle corrected sharply. "We rule it  _together!_ I'd give you the same damn courtesy in my country, but I guess I expected too much from a selfish human like you!"

Eric frowned in disbelief. "You'd let ME run your country? Knowing ME?"

Kyle's shoulders stiffened. "Are you trying to tell me I shouldn't trust you?"

"If you were smart, you wouldn't," he replied without thinking, then flinched when Kyle gave him an extremely cold glare.

Kyle folded his arms. "Duly noted." 

Maybe Eric really pushed the envelope too far again with his big mouth. The delegate kept looking between them for answers, but Kyle was determined to keep his silence. According to Eric, It wasn't his place anyways to share the decision making. He was more than happy to let his human fiance drown in the complexities of social issues for all he cared.

That left Eric with the awkward task of deciding on his own and truthfully, he had very little knowledge on social policy. Mackey had said he was too blindsided by economics that he often saw the population as more of a statistic than actual living, breathing people. But Kyle had no problem differentiating the difference and, aside from the occasional look of displeasure whenever Eric tried to actually consider really bad options, he offered no input whatsoever.

"Real mature, Kyle," Eric finally retorted with frustration. "I mean, here I am doing all the work while you're sitting here doing nothing!"

"Nonsense. I'm giving you  _exactly_  what you wanted," Kyle answered viciously before sipping his tea. "We look to you for your oh so amazing wisdom,  _your majesty_."

The delegate was at his wit's end with the two of them. "We can always implement one of our older laws, your highnesses," he rubbed the side of his tea cup nervously. "If it pleases you, the countess could always accept the refugees through the labor system. Pay their way to citizenship."

"Slavery, you mean," Kyle growled. "And you call  _us_  the barbarians."

Eric sat back in his seat and grinned. "So that's the exception to your short-lived silence, huh? Some nice ol' indentured servitude rustles your jimmies just nicely?"

"Trading their dignities away for the price of citizenship is abhorrent!" Kyle retorted, disturbing the china by slamming his palms on the table. "A kingdom running on the backs of slaves… it's disgusting!"

"But  _profitable_ ," Eric pointed out unhelpfully. "And we've done indentured servitude before in the past. They get clothed, sometimes paid, and they have a roof over their head. Sounds like a fucking win-win to me."

Kyle wasn't to be swayed. "And who's going to regulate that?  _You?_ Are you going to go to every noble house to make sure those refugees are treated fairly? Corruption can always grow from misguided decisions."

Liane and Gerald let out an exhale of relief when Eric's next words actually got Kyle to delegate again. "Alright, Prince Charming, what bleeding liberal alternative did you have in mind? I bet it's gay as shit though."

"Give them jobs!" Kyle said simply. "They didn't just pop in here out of thin air! A lot of them were probably skilled craftsmen or farmers! Let them apprentice where they believe themselves best and create new occupations from there. Let them work to feed their families like every other citizen in this kingdom."

"Yep, I was right. Extremely gay," Eric drawled. "And what about the vagrants that refuse to get a job?"

"Then they'll just have to deal with remaining poor," Kyle reluctantly replied. "We don't have to give them handouts. Just… give them a chance."

Liane gave Gerald a look significant enough for him to intervene. "Now Kyle, your intentions are very noble, but what you're suggesting still requires a bit of money to be used to help the immigrants out. Are you and Eric in agreement that the kingdom should try this instead of indentured servitude? It might be easier for the latter."

"Not to mention cheaper," Eric grumbled.

"Dad!" Kyle frowned. "Are you seriously saying we should put these people into slavery?!"

"Of course not," he said patiently, "but it's not our kingdom. Not yet. They have a completely different set of rules and ethics from ours. You have to take this into consideration."

Eric's smugness radiated from the table. "Dad is so wise and noble. You should really listen to him, Kyle. I personally think we should let them do what we've always done in this kingdom. Tradition's never failed us yet."

"Are you really going to keep calling him dad?" Kyle asked flatly. "It's creeping me out."

Eric only answered with a devilish smile.

Liane squeaked when three sets of eyes were upon her. "Oh… well, the decision in the end falls to me, isn't it?" She offered Kyle's hopeful look a gentle smile. "I really do like Kyle's idea. I wouldn't wish to discourage new potential citizens in such a way…" she trailed off as if lost in her own thoughts. She shook her head. "Why don't we put the final decision off until tomorrow, yes? This has been a very stressful day for all of us."

"Good idea, Liane," Gerald nodded in approval at the two boys. "There were a few bumps today, but I think you boys are getting it together very well. I'm proud of you both."

Eric averted his eyes, unable to process the compliment from an actual male authority figure. Kyle didn't seem too thrilled at the compliment. He was still upset that that they were one vote away from turning an entire populace into slaves.

* * *

After lunch, the meetings had eventually adjourned and, for once, it was _Kyle_  that was determined to catch up with Eric instead of the other way around. "Can we talk?" he asked as they walked down the open corridor. Overlooking it was Liane's garden in full bloom which, Kyle eventually admitted, did help him become acclimatized to the castle ever since Eric allowed her to install it all those years ago.

The private corridor shaded from the midday sun, the lush scent of flowers, and a very pissed off elf for a fiance by his side - Eric had admit it set the mood for him. Talking politics wasn't really romantic though, but Eric realized he should just take whatever he was given at this point. They were so close, their shoulders occasionally bumped. That was enough for him.

"You're better off trying to sway our parents than me, Jew," Eric chuckled as they walked at a leisure pace, "but you've got balls for trying."

"Revisiting draconian law isn't going to help move the kingdom forward, Eric," Kyle reminded him as he made his case. "Implementing a more humane alternative will help all of us in the long run."

Eric yawned on purpose. "God, give the diplomatic shit a rest already! I'm clocked out on the kingly duties, thanks."

Kyle turned and stepped into Eric's path. They were so close he could smell that ridiculous spiced tea Kyle drank today. "A king's duty is  _never_  finished," he uttered with such conviction, Eric had to admit it was attractive. "Eric, just please listen to me - if not ever then now! Don't let your people suffer!"

If it had been any other topic, Eric might have caved. Kyle was so close he could swoop down and steal his lips as easily as taking candy from a baby. And he should know - he's done plenty of candy stealing in his life.

But letting illegal immigrants run amok in his kingdom? Not even a full on make-out session could stir his decision. Eric's eyes narrowed. "Those illegals aren't MY people, Kyle. I don't have to do jackshit with them - hell, would you rather I send out the soldiers and push them out of our borders? Building a big ass moat and a wall is starting to sound pretty sweet now that I think about it. We can do that too, you know."

"How can you be so fucking cruel?!" Kyle shouted. "These are living, breathing people with children and wives and you're just going to turn a blind eye to them? They came to your kingdom seeking refuge. You know why? Because your mother, the Queen, is a compassionate and gentle person! Give them the chance and their respect and loyalty goes to you!"

Eric rolled his eyes. "And that's the problem. I won't let my mother be stepped all over by these vagrants! This country needs a backbone, not flowers and pussy shit like that!"

Most would have stepped down and given up to Eric's whims, but he had long since accepted that Kyle was just too stubborn to stop. Instead Kyle took a long exhale and snatched his wrist to pull Eric through the courtyard.

"The hell you taking me?" Eric demanded.

"It's time you saw your people as actual beings and not as statistics," Kyle said sharply.

How he managed to do it Eric still didn't know, but Kyle managed to don them both in old ragged cloaks and set off on horseback to the edge of the kingdom. With the immigrant population new and uprooted, they were heading along to the border provinces. He would have just walked away and head to the kitchens or something, but after what happened last year, he didn't really want to gamble on losing Kyle again due to his own stupid impulses. It looked like he would have to play babysitter again after all.

After a few hours of travel, Eric eventually slowed his horse at the sight of tents practically littering his land along the outskirts of a town. "Ugh, gross as shit."

"You'd rather them all walk around instead?" Kyle snorted before dismounting his horse.

"I'd rather start razing the whole thing to the ground," he shot back, only to get smacked upside the head when he teased Kyle with a bit of magical fire.

Arriving at the town gate, Kyle walked up to a guard standing by to ask for entry. The guard's nose wrinkled at the young man, no doubt thinking he was another vagrant, but then after another moment the guard's expression softened and he even started to chuckle.

Annoyed, Eric dismounted and hovered just behind Kyle like an intentional third wheel. The guard eventually nodded at whatever Kyle told him and let them through the portcullis, horses and all.

"I think I just witnessed first hand your Jewish voodoo on that guard," Eric sniffed indignantly as he guided his horse. "I'm onto you now, elf."

"I believe you humans call it  _flirting_ , but then I realized that kind of talent is lost on you," Kyle shot back. His own horse snorted in agreement.

Intentionally making their way to the tents, they were greeted by the sounds of pan flutes and, for a horrifying moment, Eric thought that maybe they had Peruvian migrants on their hands too. In the midst of tying their horses up to avoid them getting stolen by these immigrants, he jumped when Kyle's hand suddenly curved around his.

"You look like a disgusted noble," Kyle explained and squeezed. "Just put on a smile and act like you belong here."

"But I _don't_ ," Eric drawled. His stomach curled pleasantly with the knowledge that Kyle _wanted_  to hold his hand. He thought about tugging his hand away out of pride, but for some reason that idea never really translated through. A bit disoriented, he let Kyle take the lead through the many families coveting their own campfires until they were accosted by one of the flapheads themselves.

A Canadian immigrant with a burlap sack over his face happily waved them over. "Welcome, fwends! It's so nice to meet more locals, eh?"

"Yes your  _lovely_  tents certainly help bring the down the property value- oof!" he gasped in pain when Kyle discreetly elbowed him in the gut.

The man was only too happy to introduce him to the groups of immigrants sitting around fires while musicians played. "Everyone is welcome to our camp! Please join us for wine and spirits! What are your names, fwends?"

"This sour asshole is Eric and I'm Kyle," Kyle replied cheerfully.

"You be careful now," Eric smirked. "Kyle's a sneaky Jew."

The man eagerly shook Kyle's freed hand. "Well hello, Kyle the Jew and Eric the Sour Asshole!"

"Ay!" he retorted, but it only made Kyle laugh even more.

"I am called Ugly Bob," the man introduced with a bow. "It's because I'm hideously ugly."

"You don't say," Eric drawled, noting the sack over his head. "Do you have a big ass wart or something? Or perhaps you're infected by gingeritis like my friend here?"

This time he was able to dodge Kyle's elbowing.

"No, no. Just naturally born ugly," Ugly Bob admitted. "I wear this bag over my head until someone requires the need to vomit. Apparently I am of better use as an emetic than any other medicine. So long as I can contribute, the gods have given me a divine purpose!"

Kyle's brow furrowed. "You can't be THAT ugly, can you?"

Ugly Bob pulled off his sack. Immediately, the Canadians nearby started to shriek and throw up at the sight, but Eric and Kyle didn't react at all.

"You look just fine to me," Kyle replied in puzzlement. There was nothing deformed or disgusting about Ugly Bob. He just looked normal like any other Canadian.

Eric tilted his head against his. "That's because they all look alike, Kyle."

"Don't be racist," he sighed.

"No, no, Eric the Sour Asshole is right," Ugly Bob said and put his sack back on. "Here, people don't think I look ugly - they just think I look Canadian! Perhaps it's one blessing I can have living in this fine kingdom."

Eric had to admit they were awfully 'fwendly' for illegals. They even made good on their promise to offer them food and entertainment just for the sake of companionship. He was more than happy to devour a plate of this sweet meaty thing the Canadians called 'bacon' while Kyle spoke in animated conversation with Ugly Bob.

Watching Kyle occasionally grin at him by bonfire light did a strange thing with his insides, but that could have been just the bacon talking.

"Want to work off that Canadian bacon with a bit of a spar, Eric the Sour Asshole?" a random Canadian asked. Eric could feel a strange kind of magic crackle off of him. "They say you can create blades out of nothing but air! I would be honored to see that in action, fwend! "

Unable to turn down a bit of an ego boost, (and Kyle's eager nod didn't help much either), Eric dusted himself off. "Prepare to be schooled by a master, buddy!" He was absolutely not trying to show off in front of Kyle. He just wanted to look back and make sure the friendly immigrants didn't try to kidnap him or something.

Expelling a showcase of fire from his fingertips that was more for style than combat, him and the Canadian magician made an exhibition of their arcane talents. He eventually did show him the blade dance he learned just over the winter and, with everyone in awe by how they sliced through the air in a whirlwind of sharp sounds, he caused an uproar of cheers when he managed to pin the magician down with those very blades.

He occasionally sought Kyle's opinion every time he pulled off an unfair move. Those green eyes would predictably narrow in warning before indulging him with a smile again.

Being a prince in disguise, Eric did eventually trounce his opponent, who accepted the defeat easier than Eric ever could, and they ended up exchanging spells as a weird cultural bit of exchange. By the time he finished, he found Kyle preoccupied with a small boy no older than three, who offered him a simple dandelion he plucked from the ground.

The Canadian magician thumped Eric hard on the shoulder. "Well I'll be a monkey's farting uncle, eh? Hope you don't mind but the poor child was orphaned during the migration from the mountains. Hasn't spoken a word since, but he seems to like your fwend there."

It didn't take long for Kyle to pluck the child up as easily as if he were his own and stick him on his lap like he damn well belonged there.

"What's your name?" he overheard Kyle ask as he approached.

"Ike!" the toddler instantly said, waving his legs around.

Eric's nose wrinkled. "What kind of stupid ass name is Ike?"

Kyle glared at him. "Yeah, well Eric means  _'fat hog'_  in elvish, so watch what you say!"

"Ay! I'm not fat, you fucking elf!"

Ike looked up into Kyle's hood. Inquisitive eyes much too wise for a boy his age searched for those tell-tale ears. "Kyle is an elf!" he said proudly.

"Great job blowing my cover, Eric," Kyle growled angrily. Ike eventually hopped off of Kyle's lap, grabbed his hand, and started tugging him over to where a group of Canadians were putting up a comedy show where two strange men in matching outfits greeted the crowd.

"Those are Canada's most famous jesters - Terrence the Flatulence and Phillip the Tooter," Ugly Bob informed them.

Kyle had no problem sitting his royal ass down on the dirt with Ike in his lap while the jesters started with an opening act of jokes and farts that left the rest of them in stitches.

How such easy-going people ended up displaced from their own country made Eric frown beneath his hood. "So what happened that brought your people to this beautiful kingdom?"

The man's good temperament dissipated and was replaced with a disquiet calm. "We were scattered by a powerful and obscenely rude individual. He coveted our lands, refused to fart on our women, and burned many villages to the ground. We call him many things, but Scott just has a nice ring to it. Scott the Dick."

The prince stiffened at the name. Scott was a relatively common name but…

Eventually, the entertainment was interrupted by a large group of horses helmed by the noblemen of this province. The Canadians quickly ran out of the way from their rude entrance and Kyle had to narrowly pick up Ike before a horse accidentally ran him over.

"Watch where you're going, asshole!" Kyle snarled, causing the immigrants to gasp at his audacity. "You almost ran over a kid here!"

The nobleman, who Eric instantly recognized as the Baron's son, curled his lip unpleasantly at Kyle. "Watch your tongue, flap-head! You should be kissing my boots with my father letting you occupy this pigsty."

That Jersey fire was present in Kyle's eyes. "It's Her Majesty who graciously offered sanctuary. You do well to remember that!"

"You've got a lot of lip for a Canadian," the Baron's son jeered and dipped from his saddle to get a good look at him. Kyle instinctively drew back, causing the other men to laugh, "but this here land is still loyal to the Tenorman line, regardless of which whore now occupies the throne."

Eric saw red.

"What did you say?" Kyle growled in warning.

"I'm saying I'm not surprised you're admiring a lovely whore," he reiterated with a shit-eating grin Eric wanted his fist to meet, "but I suppose it takes a whore to know one."

Before Eric could even confront the bastard, Kyle did it for him. He moved Ike to the side and launched himself clear at the nobleman, knocking him off of his horse and toppling to the ground. Everyone was stunned to find the petite ginger really lay on the punches Eric had known firsthand. Kyle seriously fights like a fucking mule. Before the nobleman's cronies could draw their weapons, Eric quickly intervened.

"Okay, okay. Party's over, Mark," he said in his best kingly tone. He grabbed his still flailing fiance off of the baron's son. "Just take your twinks and head on home like good little boys."

"Let go!" Kyle snarled in his arms. "His eyes are still attached to his head!"

Mark quickly scrambled away from Kyle's wrath on the dirt before indignantly shouting, "I'll have my father hear about this and raze this fucking camp to the ground! Ungrateful scum!"

"Please don't!" Ugly Bob begged. "We're awfully sorry, buddy!"

"I'm not your buddy, guy!" Mark snarled.

"He's not your guy, fwend!" Terrance piped up from behind.

Eric drew back his hood. "I'm afraid the Crown doesn't take too kindly to unauthorized burnings, Mark." His blue eyes were icy. "Maybe if you go over it with my 'whore' of a mother though…"

"Your highness!" One of Mark's friends gasped before falling off of his own horse to bow. The rest of them followed along by an extreme grovel from all the immigrants in the camp once they realized who Eric the Sour Asshole actually was.

Kyle shivered when Eric whispered in his ear, "Great job blowing my cover, Kyle."

Mark reluctantly licked his wounded pride to bow last. "My apologies, your highness! I did not notice it was you."

"That's a fancy way for saying sorry for getting caught," Kyle muttered bitterly. 

"Enough, Kyle," Eric shushed pleasantly. "May I present to you Prince Kyle of the Drow? Tsk, tsk, you seem determined to insult both my mother AND my fiance all in one sentence. I'm seriously impressed."

Mark had the decency to cringe at the thought. "Your highnesses, please take all of my apologies into consideration. I was brought humbled by Prince Kyle's…  _discipline_ , and will ensure reparations during your stay at our humble province."

"Good boy," Eric purred and tugged Kyle along. They overstayed their welcome and he wanted to be home before Mackey found out. "Well… I think our super secret inspection has yielded some interesting results. You'll be hearing from us. Ta-ta."

Kyle flashed an apologetic smile at Ugly Bob. "I'm sorry we ruined your night," he said meekly before getting on his horse to follow Eric out.

"So much for your so-called diplomacy," Eric snarked just as they trotted out the portcullis for the road. "So do elves typically attack people when they don't get their way?"

"He shouldn't have said that about Her Majesty," Kyle grumbled angrily.

Eric rolled his eyes. "It's the same old shit, Kyle. You don't think I haven't heard every insult known to mankind about her? You know the story and it's true. My mom was a tavern wench she before she became queen. That pissed off a LOT of royals. Big fucking whoop."

Kyle brought his horse to an abrupt stop. "It matters to  _me_ ," he told the back of Eric's head. "I like your mom. I told you what she did in the past was irrelevant now and I'm not going to stand by and watch people drag her name through the fucking mud -  _yours_  either. She's a great queen and - if  _and_  when you get your shit together - you're going to be a great king too."

Eric's horse slowed from its hurried trot until it came to a complete stop. Kyle just sounded so fucking sure that he can change the kingdom and if he wasn't careful, Eric might just believe him. He looked over his shoulder, his expression guarded, when he noticed something down the road behind them.

"Goddammit Kyle," he sighed. "You just couldn't help but bring a souvenir home, could you?"

"What?" he asked flatly and turned. Ike was trying his best to catch up to them with his tiny little legs. He tripped once, tried not to cry, and sniffled on over to Kyle's horse with his arms outstretched.

"Cookie elf!" he chirped happily. "Kyle!"

Kyle instantly melted. "Ike, I can't take you with me! Your parents-"

"He's an orphan," Eric inserted, buffing his nails on his saddle to ignore the curious look Kyle was giving him. "Better not keep him, Kyle. I swear to God I don't need to turn my castle into a vagrant sanctuary. I've already got to deal with elves on a daily basis."

Kyle's deliberation lasted about two seconds. "I'm taking Ike with me," he said finally before hopping off his horse to help Ike into the saddle. "If he managed to catch up with us this far, I don't think the camp cares where he goes."

Ike let out a bubbly gurgle of laughter before cuddling Kyle tight. It was such a sickeningly adorable sight, Eric had to look away before he vomited. "I had nothing to do with this if your dad finds out. Just saying."

"Hey," Kyle said happily as they continued on their journey, "how much do you want to bet that Kenny's gonna throw a pregnancy joke two minutes in when she sees Ike?"

Eric slowed down enough to let Kyle's horse catch up with him. "I'll put down ten gold pieces she'll do it in two _seconds_."

* * *

Eric wasn't surprised that King Gerald became immediately attached to the Canadian child - not when Kyle made sure to instruct Ike to run at him screaming 'dada' in the cutest way possible upon their first meeting. If Eric wasn't so convinced that Kyle had his own scheming side, he would have been sure he was rubbing off on him.

And if the King didn't want him, Liane would have taken Ike off their hands. By the next day, she had already gotten Ike fitted with an entire wardrobe of outfits and carried him around like he was a damn poodle to her tea parties. It reminded Eric horribly of what she used to do to him when they started living in the castle.

"Your mom keeps giving me strange looks," Kyle eventually told him with an uneasy air during a round of poker. "Like she's expecting me to pop out another one for her so she can dress that one up too."

The thought of Kyle pregnant with his heirs was disgusting and hilarious, but after seeing how happy Kyle was taking care of Ike, Eric couldn't help but fantasize. "Probably because you're the one with sand up your vagina, so it makes sense it'd be you."

"I don't have sand in my vagina!" he snapped, which made Stan shake his head before dishing out a new hand for them.

They were amassing quite a bit of gold on the line. Eric found that poker was something they were both pretty good at - being great bluffers and all. But after the last five games, he learned to be careful not getting out-Jew'd.

Eric carefully looked at his cards after a long, awkward moment of silence. "So, after a long ass deliberation, I decided that the Canadians are worth a little more than wasting away in slavery. We've got the Mexicans to do that anyways."

You could literally drop a pin and hear it bounce in the room.

"R-really?" Kyle gaped, nearly dropping his cards.

"Yup," he tapped his cards on the table. "Because I'm so smart and awesome, Mackey and I did some number crunching. With the guard tax implemented next spring we can break even on your gay ass refugee program. No financial loss. You're fucking welcome, by the way."

Kyle shook his head, unable to comprehend Eric's sudden bout of compassion. "I… you're doing this for a reason, aren't you? You never agree with me unless you've got some sort of scheme in the making."

"Well your attempts to make me sympathize with the Canadians  _was_  horrible, so it had nothing to do with that," he said serenely. "Can't you just accept that I'm doing this not only for the goodness of my heart, but to acquire your favor?"

Kyle glared. "No."

"Fair enough," Eric grinned broadly, "but seriously you guys, those Canadians were literally eating out of the palm of my hand. They were practically kissing my feet when I told them we were gonna help them find jobs and homes! Some even  _wanted_  to join my own private guard - willingly! I've got my own personal army of Canadian meat-shields, Kyle, and it's all thanks to my compassionate future husband. Everybody give Kyle a round of applause!"

Butters was the only one to enthusiastically clap. "Hurrah for Prince Kyle!"

Kyle groaned at Eric. "You're a dickbag."

"I'm a dickbag with a good rep now, thanks." Straight flush.

Kyle eyed the spread critically. "You know…" he sighed and sat back, prolonging his hand. "You don't have to deflect your good deeds by saying you're doing it for ulterior motives. But whatever…" he gave Eric a tiny grin. "Thanks."

His smile made Eric's stomach flutter again. "But it WAS an ulterior motive, Kyle. Even when you think you've won the small shit, just remember that I'm gunning for the bigger prize."

Kyle was unimpressed. "Well… in the meantime…" he spread his hand. "Royal flush."

Eric gaped at the winning hand. "What the fuck?! You cheated, Kyle!"

"I did not!" Kyle laughed, but then snarled when Eric tried to take back his winnings. "Hey! Knock it off, asshole!"

Stan sighed as the table started to rattle from their movements. "C'mon your highness, don't be a sore loser!"

But they've long since accepted Eric's temper tantrums when their games never went his way. He predictably tossed his cards at Kyle and upturned the table, leaving Kenny to quickly cheer and pocket the gold pieces rolling along the floor.

Kyle just couldn't stop laughing. "Now you know why the Canadians have been calling him  _Eric the Sour Asshole_ , Stan!"

"Shut the fuck up!"


	7. Every June Until September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With some luck, their marriage may result in lower taxes!

_The Thirteenth Spring_

Kyle's eighteenth coming-of-age ceremony coincided the same year as Eric's twenty-first ascension. The common folk considered it a lucky sign from the gods, blessing the union by simple divine number crunching. But despite spending most of their lives forced together over the many summers, nothing much came out of it except arguments, bitter reunions and farewells, and perhaps the occasional belligerent sexual tension that surfaced from time to time.

At this point, King Gerald was beginning to worry about Kyle's lack of excitement. This year, the impending marriage would directly follow through after his coronation. As winter gave way to spring, there was a kind of weariness exuding from Kyle's magic - an air of defeat at the idea of visiting Kupa Keep for the last and perhaps permanent time.

Despite the pressure, it was Kyle's decision in the end. Either he was comfortable having Eric as a consort to go through with it or this whole thing was thirteen years' worth of a futile endeavor. Once he became eighteen, Kyle was rightfully considered an adult in Drow society. He didn't have to follow any order his father would give him regarding his personal matters, but he was still a prince. His actions would undoubtedly affect the state of his kingdom for years to come.

That was the whole  _point_  of these summers. He had hoped that Kyle would warm up to Eric enough, but as the engagement was quickly drawing to a close, he found his son more distant and withdrawn. It did not bode well for Gerald. Not at all.

When Kyle quietly excused himself for the night on the eve of the Great Awakening, Gerald considered penning another letter about this to Liane. With every day passing, his suspicion grew. His son may be preparing a good legitimate excuse why he didn't want to marry Prince Eric.

Liane's responses kept getting shorter and shorter with encouragement. Perhaps she was having a similar problem with Eric. While Eric seemed warmed up to the idea more than Kyle, there was an undercurrent of frustration from a teenagehood spent saving himself for one person. Humans weren't exactly good at mating for life in comparison to elves.

Gerald sat down at his desk and sighed.

"Sheila, what do you think I should do?" he whispered, gazing with utter longing at the giant portrait of his late wife. "I've tried upholding your wishes but… maybe this wasn't meant to be. Kyle just doesn't… get along with Eric. We've tried the summers - even the occasional holiday visits but… I just don't know."

There was an unopened letter sitting on top of his decrees - the seal belonging to Kupa Keep. He looked at it for a full minute before rubbing his face. "Please tell me what to do, beloved," he beseeched. "I want our son to be happy, but you and Liane were right. This marriage would secure both of our kingdoms. If only Kyle and Eric would understand this but they're still so young. I just don't know how to move forward with this! How can I be both a good king AND a good father at the same time?"

From outside the study, Kyle turned his head and continued walking on, reserved and disappointed with himself for putting his father in this predicament.

Ike was waiting for Kyle as usual to tuck him into bed. He had been afraid that Ike wouldn't fit in well in the Drow Kingdom, but he was pleased to find that his new little brother got along just fine with the enchanted trees and the magical creatures that brought him more awe than fear.

But still, Ike couldn't go to sleep without someone familiar like Kyle there to tuck him in.

"I want to read this one aloud, okay?!" Ike chirped when Kyle entered his room quietly. He presented his older brother a very old bedtime story his father would read to him when he was around Ike's age.

Kyle turned the book in his hands with a grin before lounging on the bed. _"Mister Hankey and the Christmas Miracle_ , huh? You sure you can read this entire thing by yourself?"

Ike nodded eagerly and threw the heavy cover open. Kyle didn't really think he was reading the words like he claimed he did - he only knew because he memorized how the story went. Still, he tossed an arm around his brother's tiny shoulders and relaxed the moment Ike cuddled into his side and read out loud.

Ike's recitation of Mister Hankey became background noise to Kyle. He found his gaze move from the detailed pictures in Ike's book to the open window where he could easily view the urban sprawl of ornate buildings and houses built into grand trees and the fireflies that illuminated the rest of the Drow kingdom during the night. A fairy would occasionally drift by and, by that time, Ike would be so caught up trying to see it out the window that the book he was reading would be forgotten.

But Ike was so focused on the book that he didn't see two violet ones zip past his window this time. Kyle wisely kept quiet to avoid disturbing Ike's already late bedtime.

Eric's last letter continued to haunt his thoughts more than the ethereal beauty of his kingdom. It was so full of excuses and second-guesses that Kyle could literally feel his insecurity and frustration bleeding through the ink.

He wrote about not going to some stupid famous lute band with Kenny because Mackey was being a dildo or how Liane was panicking about the wedding and dragging him into it. Eric tended to gossip and bitch so much in his letters, Kyle often wondered if someone actually replaced his fiancé with a chatty milk maid.

But he didn't need to hide his reluctance about the wedding in the last paragraph. Eric finally pulled his thoughts together at the end of the letter for the real reason he wrote to him: he  _begged_  Kyle to reconsider the engagement.

The truth was Eric didn't need to ask. Kyle was already confused and unsure enough as it is. They had so much to consider - like the fact that, instead of every summer, they'd be together  _constantly_  from now on. They could hardly stand each other four months out of the year - how the fuck would they survive dealing with  _until death do they part_?

Kyle was so lost in his indecision that he didn't even realize Ike had long stopped reading.

"THE END, Kyle!" Ike huffed and thumped the book hard on his stomach. Kyle coughed, gave Ike an apologetic smile, and then climbed off the bed to put the book away.

"Good job, Ike!" Kyle beamed and got on his hands and knees for the last ritual of Ike's bedtime: checking under the bed for jabberwockies. "And it looks like you're all good here! Not a monster in sight."

Ike pointed immediately at the closet, which Kyle checked as well before he drew the covers over his chin. "Good job, Kyle!"

"Thanks," he chuckled before closing the closet door securely.

"Are you really getting married?" the five year old asked just as Kyle was about to blow out the candles with the wave of his hand. "Because in the fairy tales you give me, people are happy. You don't look very happy."

He knew this was going to be asked eventually. Kyle sighed and sat down on the chair. "You know how truthful elves can be, right Ike?"

Ike nodded.

"Well humans aren't like elves," he explained. "They can lie, cheat, and steal. They can hurt your heart if you're not careful. I just… I know there's nice humans out there, I know. Like you and Stan. You're both very nice humans, aren't you?" Ike nodded again. "But Eric… it's different. He's not afraid to hurt people to get what he wants. If he was an elf, I could read his heart and I wouldn't be worried about this sort of thing. But he's not."

"Because he's human?"

Kyle smiled bitterly. "Very human."

Ike wrinkled his nose before flipping to the side. "Adults make things so hard! Why don't you just ask him if he likes you?"

Easier said than fucking done. Kyle snorted. "You don't know him like I do, Ike. Getting a straight answer from him is like pulling a unicorn's teeth. You'll just end up kicked in the face with nothing to show for it."

"Do you think he likes you?"

Every single memory of Eric insulting him, his people, and his very existence came to mind. Kyle snorted. "I seriously doubt it."

But there were times where Eric was tolerable. Like when he sent a group of drunken nobles to the stocks for throwing hateful slurs at him or when he carried Kyle back to the castle after their horses were spooked and Kyle ended up spraining his ankle. He insulted him the whole time sure, but that was just par on course for them at that point.

Last summer wasn't too bad either. The immigrant jesters Terrance and Phillip entertained the Crown as gratitude for Kyle's continuing effort in relocating the Canadians. They had spent the entire night laughing and getting drunk off of Canadian lager (at least Kyle did - Eric refused to drink any alcoholic beverage himself), but Kyle sobered up real quickly when Eric accidentally lit Garrison's tapestries on fire. It  _still_ made him laugh to this day.

Kyle had to admit that things were never boring when Eric was around. And sometimes, if he cared to admit it, he really did miss the slovenly prince. The denizens of the Drow homeland were always courteous and proper - Eric shook his summers up in a way Kyle would have never experienced otherwise.

When Kyle returned to his room, he kicked at the ornate wood of his bed and flopped onto it.

"Why can't you just be the good kind of asshole?" he demanded from Eric's smug portrait. It was a going away present from Queen Liane over the winter break, and she left Kyle stunned how much Eric physically changed over the months  _already_.

Eric's confident grin was perfectly imagined on the canvas, with a strong full face to match and up-swept hair the color of dark cedar wood was pinned back by his thin gold crown. His broad shoulders practically escaped the frame, but one could tell by the symmetry that the young man was built like a bear - his weight accentuated more strength than laziness at this point.

Of course, Eric was still a fat, lazy son of a bitch regardless.

With an exhale of defeat, Kyle climbed out of bed to admire the portrait and ignore the calendar right next to it. "And I guess you're a handsome asshole," he ruefully admitted. "Do you even like me, Eric?"

Eric's portrait simply returned that shit eating grin.

Kyle  _did_ like Eric. They've been sort of childhood friends forever even with all the animosity between them. And maybe that's the problem. He KNEW Eric - well enough that the prince was a schemer. Everything he did, even if it seemed full of good intentions, was always to justify some sort of convoluted means to his plans.

Eric was resourceful and clever - things that Kyle very much admired and even found attractive. He can also be very charming and sweet if he stopped being a dick for two seconds. Kyle just couldn't risk admitting he liked Eric and then find out later that his new husband really hated his guts - and Kyle was just a dimwitted pawn for whatever elaborate plot he was cooking up.

Perhaps that was the root of the whole matter. Could he even trust Eric's answer knowing what a manipulative son of a bitch he was?

Back in the study, Gerald opened the latest correspondence from Liane. She filled out each response to his last letter with a courteousness he found comforting. Her history being the town whore seemed to be another lifetime reading these gently written letters. He firmly believed that Liane was every much as regal now as the next born princess.

The response about the growing concern over Kyle's participation was only answered in two large words.  _URGE HIM._

* * *

After Kyle had sent Ike off to his tutor the next morning, he sought for Stan's opinion on what he should do about this impending wedding. While the ranger had always been in favor of the union, he was firmly on Kyle's side for better or worse, and Kyle craved that kind of support. It just seemed like everything else was against him at this point.

When he caught up to the Rangers Guild deep within the south forest, he was told by the guildmaster that Stan had been summoned with the others to scope out a clear pathway for the Great Awakening and wouldn't return for awhile. Despite this, Kyle had nothing else to do but lounge outside and wait with only his thoughts to keep him.

A few minutes later, he heard the unmistakable crunch of leaves and twigs. "Stan?" he inquired, hopping off of the gate to meet him halfway.

He took a few steps back when a young man with sharp cheekbones emerged from the trees and regarded him with a sneer. "Well shit," the older man snorted. "For a second I thought you were a lovely maiden, but it's just the royal fawn that wandered off from the city herd."

"You need to get your eyes checked, Mikowski," Kyle replied flatly. "Have you seen Ranger Marshwalker around here?"

Mikowski scoffed. "As if the human can do any good as a ranger. You know, only the best of the best can be called the Whisperer - and that's gonna be me! Not Darshwalker!"

"I  _really_  don't care about your rivalry," Kyle cut in blandly. "I just wanted to know if you've seen him. A simple yes or no would be just fine, thanks."

But Mikowski kept rattling on and on about how he was the best ranger in the forest and how he had the prettiest elven maiden in the land - yada, yada, yada. Eventually Kyle just tuned it out and walked away when he wasn't getting the answers he needed.

"You know," Mikowski announced behind his back. "It's pretty amazing that you're going to marry a big fat slob of a human for the sake of the kingdom. Even I couldn't stomach doing that. But I suppose that's why you're a prince and I'm just an amazing ranger. That, and I can court anyone I want."

With the snap of his fingers, Kyle turned Mikowski into a tree.

"Only I get to call him a fat slob, Mikowski," he snarled.

Stan just caught what Kyle did when he emerged from the other side. He sighed at a random tree smack dabbed in the middle of the meadow. "Aw, man. You turned Mikowski into a tree again, didn't you?"

"I think he contributes to the universe better this way."

The ranger admired the familiar white-blond tree and nodded. "Actually, yeah you're right. You've gotten really good at it, but you might want to turn him back a bit early this time. His dad had a fit when he hadn't come home in two weeks and I had to cover his shift to make up for it."

"Serves him right," Kyle said with a huff and sat down at the base of it. "I was waiting for you."

Stan grinned, dropping the satchel of supplies by his feet. "I figured. Still scared about getting married?"

Kyle folded his knees when Stan joined him under the shade. "I'm not scared," he snapped. "I'm just… I don't know. Tell me it's going to be okay."

"It's going to be okay," Stan promised and tossed an arm around his shoulders. "And I really think you're over-analyzing this. Prince Eric really does have a thing for you. You're just too stubborn to see it."

"Then why did he send me that fucking letter begging me to reconsider?" Kyle demanded.

Stan shrugged helplessly. "Maybe he's scared too."

"Or he's planning something."

"Or maybe he's just  _scared_."

Kyle glared and shook his head. "No. I know what he's trying to do. The moment I believe him and let my guard down, he's going to take advantage of it. He's probably trying scheme his way out of the engagement by pretending to act concerned. And the moment I fold, he'll spin it for the entire world that it was  _my_  fault that the engagement failed and he'll get all the sympathy points for it while getting out scot-free! It's so fucking flawless I wish I thought of it first!"

Stan sported a frown of disbelief at Kyle's logic. "Yeah, that sounds like something Prince Eric would do. But do you  _really_  think he'd really do it?"

"What else explains the letter?" he asked desperately. "He waits until NOW to pour his 'heart' out to me like this. That doesn't seem suspicious to you?"

"You really don't trust him, do you?"

"No, I don't!" Kyle yelled and, distressed by the reveal of his insecurity, buried his head between his knees to even out his erratic breathing. "I can't trust him," he realized painfully. _"I can't trust him."_

What kind of love could exist and survive if there wasn't an ounce of trust in it?

Stan tightened his grip on Kyle. He was reserved and a bit frustrated by how difficult both princes were, but with good reason. Eric was insecure as fuck and Kyle was neurotic to the point of insanity. They were better off trying to pair up a hurricane with an earthquake.

But the kingdoms of Kupa Keep and the Drow were desperately counting on this arrangement. With the in-fighting brewing in the Great North and the Mino'Rities absorbing their way through the land, unrest along the borders were sure to come. Might and magic from the south and west could stem the tide and bring temporary balance to Zaron.

He knew that Kyle knew this and maybe that was too much pressure on one young man barely of age. Stan didn't wish his best friend to suffer from the weight of a kingdom, but he was secretly glad it wasn't him. He would have run away years ago. That was why he respected Kyle and his resolve so much. The other elves in the court be damned - Kyle had plenty of sacrifice to give for the sake of his kingdom.

"Hey," Stan grinned, tugging on those red curls for his attention. "Do you wanna see something cool I learned the past week?"

Kyle unfolded himself. "Is it from your studies?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah! I can summon fearsome birds now!"

Those green eyes lit up with excitement. "Holy crap! Do it!"

* * *

Gerald found his eldest son in an open meadow with Stan, who was showing off to the prince his bird call. After a minute or so of impatient waiting, a hawk zoomed right down out of nowhere and snatched Stan's spring cap right off his head and flew off. Kyle collapsed onto the silvery grass and laughed in a way Gerald has never seen in a while now.

"Uh… I meant to do that," Stan said sheepishly before running his fingers through his dark hair.

Kyle wiped a tear from his eye, instantly cheered up. "Yeah, okay. Sure Stan!"

The ranger quickly noticed the king's approach and bowed deeply. "Highest Elf." Kyle stiffened from behind.

"Do you mind if I talk to Kyle in private, Ranger Marshwalker?" Gerald asked in a regal tone.

"Not at all, Your Majesty," Stan replied and shot a sympathetic look at Kyle before he retreated. "I've got to join the cavalry soon for the Great Awakening anyways. See you later, Kyle."

The young prince grimaced. "Later Stan."

Once Stan was out of earshot, Kyle returned back to the Mikowski tree where his father joined him. They simply sat there in silence, enjoying the sounds of birds and running water in the distance at the first sign of spring.

"I haven't spent this much time with you in the Silver Meadow since you were a fawn," Gerald realized with a nostalgic grin.

Kyle inwardly cringed at the nickname. "I'm just glad you never called me that in Kupa Keep. Eric would have never let it down."

"I figured," Gerald admitted. After a minute or so of silence, he said, "I don't want you to think you have no way out of this, Kyle. Do you believe me?"

His son shrugged.

"Don't do that," he chided. "Talk to me."

Kyle leaned back against the tree trunk. "Did you and mom love each other? Even though you were in an arranged marriage?"

Gerald hummed thoughtfully for a worthy answer. "Did I ever tell you how I was when I was your age?"

His son frowned. He didn't expect his question to be diverted like that. "What does that have to do with anything?

"It has  _everything_  to do with it, actually," he replied. "See, I was very sheltered and very insecure. I second guessed myself with everything and it made me quite a target for bullying."

Unaware of this side of his father, Kyle turned his head in surprise. "You were a wimp?" he teased.

"Well… I suppose when you put it that way," Gerald grumbled. "You can imagine how I felt when my father offered my hand to a royal from  _Jersey_. I never had the chance to get to know your mother from a young age as you did with Eric, so you can imagine how I reacted just  _months_  before the vows. Your mother was very loud and abrasive. Very willful… and she always had an opinion for something even when she wasn't asked for one. The court absolutely  _hated_  your mother and I had never met any woman like her. But it was her forceful personality that made me what I am today. She had no problem pulling me out of my shell and give me the confidence to lead this kingdom."

He continued when Kyle remained silent. "You see, sometimes we think no good can come from someone who can bring out your worst, but what we tend to  _not_  see is what they can also do to bring out your best."

"You think that asshole can bring out my best?" Kyle raised an eyebrow with disbelief.

"I think you both are capable of bringing out your best in each other," he answered with a nod. "You don't have to be scared of the future, Kyle."

Kyle sighed. He was sick of hearing it. "I'm not… okay. Maybe a little," he admitted ruefully.

 _"A prince may be afraid, but he can't let fear stop him from acting_ ," Gerald smiled absently, his thoughts drifting to vivid red hair and the passionate way Sheila once moved. "Your mother taught me that."

Perhaps Kyle didn't need to ask whether his father truly loved his mother.

* * *

Eric shut the door on Mackey's face before his mother could turn the corner and join the argument. This had been going on for days now and Eric was at his last thread of tolerance. Not even his  _mother_  could encourage him at this point, no matter how much she tried to bribe and beg him to make some kind of decision about the engagement.

"I don't want to hear it!" he growled and locked it for good measure. Their voices continued to carry through the door and - determined to win at this battle of attrition - he slammed a pillow over his head to drown out the pounding on his door until they subsided completely.

Every single fucking summer he had to hear it over and over. Love Kyle, marry Kyle, kiss Kyle's ass,  _yada, yada, yada_.

"This is all fucking Kyle's fault!" he muffled into his sheets.

But it wasn't. Eric was just too stubborn and angry to correct himself. Throwing himself off the bed, he began pacing his room like a caged chimera, unable to comprehend just how much he was being brought to his boiling point from all these reminders.

His inauguration would come soon - he would be  _king_. And Kyle, by the end of the summer, would be old enough to be officially courted. Everyone was waiting on the edge of their seats for Eric to announce the inevitable - that he would take Kyle as his king consort and there would be a grand celebration and all that magical crap that came with it.

Could he really do it though? What if he wanted to play the field and have fun for once? What if he fell in love with Patty Nelson and wanted to marry her over Kyle?

Then again, he'd have to be a dumb fuckwit first before handing part of his kingdom to some admittedly hot witch with huge tits. That was beside the point though.

But if he said he wanted an open court season for a chance to snag some bitches, that would make Kyle free to do so as well. And the thought of Kyle being charmed by some fucking earl in a peacock coat made Eric laugh until he abruptly changed gears and punched a wall.

Knowing Kyle, he would probably marry fucking  _Stan_  if the ranger politely asked. That was what was so infuriating about it.

Kyle can… he  _can_  do better. Somewhere deep beneath Eric's blown narcissism and lack of personal self-reflection, those words thrummed in his chest like shrapnel left over. It wasn't like he had been the best fiancé in Zaron the last thirteen years, but was that really his fault? They were fucking  _kids_  through most of it.

Eric shook the pain from his knuckles and slunk himself against the abused wall, wondering what the hell he could do to just  _stall_  the wedding while he planned this through. Before it felt like an eternity, so it was easy to push away - out of sight, out of mind. Now that summer was just a season away, they were moving too quickly to the finish line.

It just didn't seem fair. His gaze drifted to the calendar and, for a thoughtful moment, wondered what Kyle was thinking of this very moment. Like Eric, he didn't seem as enthused about the situation the last time they parted. If anything, it was  _Mackey_  who was the excited one. Really, if Mackey wanted to get married so badly he should just fucking do it himself.

Maybe if he could catch Kyle before the announcement banquet, he could convince him to put a hold on this - at worst, put a stop to it. He could always rely on Kyle's power of understanding, him being a compassionate bleeding heart liberal and all.

Kyle never did send a letter back about reconsidering the engagement. Eric wondered if he was pissed off with him about that.

He just wanted  _time_. Marrying Kyle scared the fuck out of him - but in the same breath, he didn't want to lose Kyle in the shuffle of generous favors and romantic ballads from the other potential suitors.

Did any of that make any fucking sense at all?


	8. It Is You I've Been Dreaming Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're all I've ever wanted.

_The Thirteenth Summer_

There were no introductions this summer - not the way Eric's schedule seemed to pan. News did spread that Kyle had returned to Kupa Keep like usual, but Eric had been spirited away halfway on the other side of the kingdom following a conference with Mino'Rity delegates and couldn't arrive to greet them.

It was both a blessing and a curse. Eric was caught in this weird paradox where he didn't want to see Kyle and yet he literally burned with each day wasted without Kyle here to take over his summer.

He wasn't exactly alone in this. Despite his reservations about the engagement, Kyle found himself listless and anticipated to see Eric again - if not to talk to him like mature adults for once about what to do.

Hell, their presence seemed so quiet and unassuming, Eric had a sneaking suspicion that the next time they meet the event would  _double_ as a wedding. He wouldn't be surprised if Kyle was forced through the castle wearing a bridal gown to bitch at him all the way to the altar.

Sometimes he even  _dreamed_  of it.

Barely a day passed of Eric's return to the castle before he was immediately sworn in for a change of wardrobe. He spent two hours hearing his mother fuss and demand perfection from his tailors while they fitted him with fancy wear  _just to meet Kyle again_.

Now he wasreally becoming suspicious that this was going to be a shot-wand wedding. Or worse, a _party_.

There wasn't much different from his normal attire aside from the fact that his burgundy cape had embroidery on it and the fabric was much silkier. By the time he eased into his expensive leather boots with a sour expression, his mother was ready to weep right then and there at the sight.

She finished off his look by styling his hair back tenderly to slide the golden crown in place.

"Oh Eric," she breathed. "You look so handsome, I can't stop my tears!"

"Mom, I swear to God…" Eric grumbled, not exactly willing to comfort his weeping mother in front of the tailors. "You sound like it's my funeral or something. Oh wait, of course you're not - just a little something called imprisonment - way worse than death in some cultures, but whatever I'm so  _sure_  you know what's best for me. You sure you don't want to add to my ensemble? Some earrings? Perhaps a fruity tiara? Or are you saving the lovely ball and chain for last?"

Liane daintily wiped at her tears to avoid smudging her make up. "Well… at least you think Kyle's lovely."

"I do not!" he snapped before grabbing her shoulders. The final snip of fabric on his cloak only cemented the inevitable. "Mom, seriously okay. Okay, just hear me out. I think… I think Kyle's family used their freaky elf magic to spellbind us! You sending me off to marry Kyle is all in their plan to take over Kupa Keep! I'm serious - Mom?  _Mom, are you laughing?!_ I swear to God mother, you're making a big mistake here! We've got to stop the wedding or the kingdom is doomed!"

"Oh Eric, you used that excuse four years ago!" Liane continued to giggle when Kenny and Butters arrived, both enlisted by Garrison to make sure Eric didn't try to jump out a window or something to escape.

"He's grasping at straws," Kenny purred with delight at Eric's suffering. "Now that the end is near, he can't bitch his way out of it like usual. The very least you could do is pull off something far more grand than the ol' elf voodoo schtick. Kyle deserves nothing less."

Butters made to rub Eric's shoulder in sympathy, but stopped when a glare was shot his way. "Oh, don't be so sore, your highness! They call this nervousness 'cold feet', and the only cure for that is walking straight down the aisle and-and just marry them! That's what my dad told me!"

"Fuck you, Butters," he snarled. "You don't know shit about marriage because you're a paladin and pussy paladins exist because they can't get laid in the first place!"

"Eric!" Liane chided and had no problem pulling on her adult son's ear. "You are not a child anymore! Be nice to your friends!"

"And when was the last time you got laid anyways?" Kenny retorted in Butters' defense. "And laying back thinking about gingers while you jack it doesn't count."

Eric rubbed his ear and glared. "Ay! Don't say things like that in front of my mother, Kenny! You shut your whore mouth!"

Liane could only sigh, place her fingers into her ears and exit, leaving it up to Garrison as usual to round the kids up.

"Alright, enough with this lovey-dovey shit," Garrison drawled and thumbed the door. "Butters, Kenny - if you have to drag his highness' ass by his fancy cape then by all means. There's no way in hell we're letting all this food go to waste because Eric wants to puss out. Now move it!"

Eric's eyes nearly bulged out.  _Food?_  This really WAS a shot-wand wedding!

"Yes sir!"

Eric tried to grab hold of the dresser, but Butters was way too fast for him. He steered the prince around with surprising strength and, with Kenny's painted nails digging into the lapels of his cape, they started dragging and pushing him simultaneously out the door.

He dug his expensive heels into the marble flooring. "Stop it! I said I'm not doing it!" he screeched. "I can do better than a fucking ginger elf! I don't want to!"

"Fuck your wants!" Garrison shouted, loud enough to disrupt the servants moving back and forth to accommodate the busy banquet. "You're gonna be king! What you want doesn't mean shit anymore! Now do your kingdom proud and pound that elf ass so we can get straight to the reception!"

"Noooo! NOOOOOO!"

Garrison quickly escorted Liane once they turned the corner. "This is going to end up a clusterfuck, Your Majesty - mark my words!"

* * *

Ike looked up at his father with an impatient frown. "Dad, where's Kyle?"

"That's a very good question, Ike," he sighed and knelt down to fix his son's formal jacket. "He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago." Beyond the doors was the banquet itself. He could hear the jubilant tone of Kupa Keep's announcer making note of every noble arriving through the main doors. Eventually, they would be called upon to make an appearance too.

He tried to stress to Liane that this party was just going to further divide the boys, but she had been so insistent - and now because of this the star of the evening was nowhere to be found.

"Your majesty!" Gerald found Stan running towards them and stopped for a moment to catch his breath. "His highness won't leave his horse."

"Agh," Gerald groaned. "Gods, I thought he grew out of that childish stunt years ago!" With Ike excitedly trailing behind, he marched his way out the backdoors of the side entrance where he found Jimmy trying to appease Kyle with a song.

"I don't want another song, Jimmy!" Kyle snapped. He folded his arms and held his chin up when his father approached. "I've changed my mind. I'm not going in there!"

The king steeled himself to use his best royal voice. "High Elf Kyle Broflovski! You get down from that horse this instant!"

Kyle willed himself not to listen, finally taking Eric's attitude of rebellion to heart for once. "No!"

Blanched by the response, Gerald desperately looked to Stan for assistance. The young ranger sighed and pulled at the reins of Kyle's horse. "Come on, Kyle. Don't be like that!"

"Be what?" he snapped. "Be an individual? What if I've had enough of being ordered around? Do this, do that, go to Kupa Keep every summer, suffer Prince Eric's abuse, get married to the racist, sociopathic fatass! I'm done!"

"You're just scared, remember?" Stan reminded gently. "It's okay to be scared."

Kyle's cheeks colored in anger. "I'm not scared, Stan! I'm _horrified!_ Eric's threatened to lock me up in a tower for years! You're going to let him get away with that?!"

"If you believed that crap, you're as gullible as he is," Stan countered.

"Kyle. get. off. the. horse!" Gerald demanded.

"NO!"

Stan gestured sharply beneath his chin to their bard. "Play the song, Jimmy!"

Jimmy balanced the lute between his wooden crutches and began plucking out a melody used to tame even the most wild of pegacorns. Kyle's horse began to sway gently to the music and, much to Kyle's horror, his horse lowered itself down and dozed off from the sweet lullaby.

"This is treason!" Kyle cried as Stan effortlessly plucked him off the saddle and carried him into the castle like a sack of wheat.

Gerald exhaled in relief before departing halfway for the main entrance. He could always count on Stan to follow through with his orders. Perhaps a promotion was in order. Or a raise. Or perhaps a break. The poor boy must need one as his princely son squirmed like a man due to be hanged.

"Will th-the-there b-b-b-be ca-cake at this p-party?" Jimmy asked, ignoring Kyle's complaints.

"Man I hope so," Stan sighed while Kyle pathetically struggled in his arms. "Let's just get this crap over with. It's been, what, almost thirteen years dealing with this? The faster we get them to the honeymoon part, the better. All this sexual tension is really exhausting!"

"I'm not attracted to that fatass!" Kyle snarled. "He's an uncouth, immature bastard and pushing him on me isn't going to make me agree to marry him!"

"Y-you know, your hi-hi-highness," Jimmy said thoughtfully. "Pent up, se-s-sexual att-ttraction isn't healthy. Fixing it may help lower y-your blood p-pre-pr-pressure."

"AAAUUURGGGG!"

* * *

The chattering of a semi-full ballroom was silenced by a flamboyant servant with a voice horn. He continued clapping for attention at the stragglers and, once all eyes were diverted, he gave them his best sunny smile.

"Hello, everybody!" he said proudly through the horn. "Can we get your absolute attention? Alright? Oh, fantastic! Such a swell, super court here on this beautiful night isn't it - and look at Duchess Emily in that chic trumpet skirt! Oh, isn't she a doll everyone? Give her a round of applause!"

"Get on with it!" Garrison shouted over the modest applause for the blushing girl.

Big Queer Al just flicked his wrist at him. "Oh, don't be a spoilsport Garrison, you silly goose! Have some champagne and try to squat out that wand up your tushy, okay? Fantastic! Is everyone here? Super! Now, let's begin!"

He straightened his outrageous collar and tapped his staff twice on the floor. The trumpets belted out a tune to signal the entrance. "Introducing His Majesty, Highest Elf Gerald, Clan of Broflovsky, King of the Drow and - long live our _amaaaazing_ queen - Her Majesty, Queen Liane, Daughter of Cartman, Regent Sovereign of Kupa Keep!"

The guests in attendance bowed in reverence to Gerald, who took Liane's hand and descended the grand staircase as slow as possible to make sure their children would arrive on time for their summons.

Once Liane regally nodded to Al, he cleared his throat as the trumpets wailed a second time. He tapped his staff and pointed at the doors. "And now, what we've all been super excited waiting for all night - introducing His Highness, High Elf Kyle, Clan of Broflovsky, Prince of Jersey and - long live our super-duper future king - His Highness, Prince Eric, Son of Cartman and Ruling Sovereign of Kupa Keep!"

The doors opened but revealed nothing but the supposed guards, who awkwardly shrugged before stepping away from the spotlight.

"Now where the hell are they?!" Garrison groaned.

Not a second later, the side entrance doors on the right opened, and a wide berth was created when Eric inelegantly stumbled onto the ballroom floor with his cape upended over his head. He shoved his disheveled cape aside to glare at his supposed friends, who didn't seem all that worried about what he threatened to do to them as king on the way over.

Butters waved at him happily while Kenny blew him a kiss for luck.

Another second later came Kyle, who was forced through the left side. He was in the middle of a tug-o-war match for his cloak, but Stan easily won, causing Kyle to spin out of it. Kyle stiffened and tried to straighten the hem of his embroidered jacket when he found himself suddenly surrounded by guests.

The entire room fell into an uncomfortable hush. Both princes seemed determined not to turn around and face each other and, in turn, the inevitable.

"Now this is just juvenile!" Garrison shouted through the silence. "Turn your asses around right now!"

"Fuck off, Garrison!" Both princes shouted in unison, now old enough to tell the mentor exactly how they felt about his grouchy ass.

Eric grinned at Kyle's audacity and turned around. "Heh. They dress your ass up like a princess too?"

Dressing up was a fucking understatement. The moment Eric turned, his breath was literally sucked away and whatever sharp quip died the instant he took in Kyle's strong, lithe body from boots to tamed red curls.

And… that  _ass_. It was probably the most perfect ass in the entire land of Zaron.

His heart was thumping uncontrollably in his chest. To see Kyle like this - strong, confident, and powerful magic rolling off of him in waves was almost too much. It really did a number short circuiting whatever doubts he had left in his head.

Standing in front of him was Kyle -  _Kyle_  - and he ensnared him with his hotness so quickly Eric was sure it had to be some kind of magic at work.

Why was he against the engagement again? He literally forgot the reason.

Kyle couldn't help but smirk at the wall, unaware of Eric's sudden silence before he looked over his shoulder. "I told you they were going to drag us to the altar, didn't I -"

His knees may or may not have buckled actually seeing Eric for the first time this year. He had expected the little chubby asshole he grew up with and was caught off guard when he realized the painting in his room wasn't some glorified version to pander Eric's ass - it was the real deal.

And yet it did no justice, not when that tell-tale slouch was gone and in its place was Eric at his absolute best with broad shoulders and pride in those blue eyes. He was still meaty, but it only added to that sturdy charm he had about him - like a hulking viking of yore, or perhaps Liane really did take Kyle's advice and started buying girdles for him.

Either way, nothing about Eric's weight detracted from his appearance - at least, not to Kyle. He was utterly perfect.

And Eric just looked so open, not a hint of a sneer or sarcasm in his stance, to give him such a stupid smile - the one meant for chocolate pie when he should be on the diet Garrison forced him into. It made Kyle's heart melt at the sight.

It looked like… like he was in  _love_.

But was it genuine? His heart seemed incapable of catching up to his head regardless. When Eric bowed generously without a mock in his step, Kyle couldn't help but curtsy back as they always did in the beginning of their summers.

And when Eric moved forward, Kyle followed like a star pulled into another by gravity. They met halfway across the polished floor.

"Hey…" Eric murmured, offering him a rare glimpse of timidness Kyle had never seen before.

It was kind of adorable.

"Hey yourself," Kyle murmured and gave him a tentative grin right back.

Taking advantage, Garrison gestured madly at the orchestra to play a slow waltz before the moment gave way to awkwardness. Spellbound by Kyle's new found beauty, Eric eagerly offered his hand in the hope of using the dance as an excuse to close the distance between them.

Floored by the mature change in Eric's demeanor, Kyle couldn't help but accept his hand along with the sudden lightheaded feeling. Eric's arm around his back was so gentle, even almost _feminine_  - when just last summer, they had no problem viciously wrestling each other for the last dessert cup that it left abrasions and the occasional black eye _._

Kyle wasn't sure whether he liked this tender side of Eric, or maybe he  _did_ , but couldn't believe it. Not now. He couldn't relax and give in to the sweetness of Eric's smile and the twinkling in those eyes. But oh how he wanted to. He wanted -

"You're thinking too loud, Kyle," Eric teased under his breath. "I'm having trouble counting my steps here."

"Oh, uh… sorry," Kyle muttered and look down at their feet only to hear Eric snort for his attention. "I'm just… you're  _nice_. It's weird."

Eric shrugged and gave him such a puppy dog smile that Kyle couldn't help but melt from. "Maybe you inspired me to grow up."

"I doubt it." He wanted to believe that this was all just a con, but at the same time he wished it wasn't. Eric was just so… perfect. This was another very sad and desperate dream Kyle was sure about. He was going to wake up in the same bed he slept in as usual with the sound of chickens Eric let loose in his room as another fucking prank.

Maybe he preferred that alternative. He just couldn't comprehend this side of Eric. He knew exactly where he stood in Eric's eyes when he was an asshole - an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Not… not like this.

But he supposed this… this was really nice too.

They were so lost in the dance and their locked gaze that long after the song ended, they were still swaying to some unheard melody. Eric eventually stopped and, after a beat, tilted forward to hesitantly brush his lips against Kyle's.

Kyle couldn't help but instinctively open his mouth for more, utterly lost in the sweetness of Eric's kiss he didn't realize he had waited for. Eric snorted just a tiny bit when Kyle grabbed the front of his cape to pull him in. Everything fit - the shape of Kyle's lips against his, the perfect tilt of his jaw, even his sharp nose balanced the kiss so delicately, Eric was undoubtedly sure God made Kyle specifically for him and him alone. He decided right then and there he would take one chaste kiss from Kyle than a thousand lewd ones from Patty Nelson.

 _This_ was a proper first kiss. And to Eric, the  _last_  one.

Eric's soft moan was drowned by applause, cheers, and the distinct sound of Garrison shrieking, "Oh my fucking god! Yes! YES! Thank you, Jesus!"

"You are welcome, my son," Jesus replied sagely before seeing a servant with a hors d'oeuvre plate. "Ooh, is that pepperjack?"

If it wasn't for the goddamned audience, Eric would have simply been content kissing Kyle all fucking night. When they parted, Kyle could only stand there dazed and satisfied until Eric moved away and announced with a grin, "Arrange the marriage!"

The crowd roared with approval. That, and the lingering spell of Eric's kiss thinned the pleasant haze of Kyle's mind. He blinked once everything sank in and hesitance and doubt took over again.

This… didn't seem right. Eric was  _happy_ about marrying him? After he spent the last thirteen years belittling and treating Kyle like a bedsore to be wished away?

Liane squealed and hugged Gerald hard as people started popping champagne bottles and hopping around like they all just earned a week off of work. Butters and Stan shook hands in congratulations for what they suffered through - all of which only made Kyle disoriented by how absolutely  _right_  things were going when it should be the opposite.

Kyle wanted the truth. He wanted to know why Eric had a sudden change of heart. Just as the orchestra started playing a jaunty tune for a congratulatory dance, Kyle found his voice once more.

"Wait!"

Everyone, even Eric, seemed too preoccupied with the festivities to even notice Kyle's growing distress. Instead, Eric pulled Kyle close to his side like some kind of trophy while the music just continued raising itself in volume as if to drown him out.

"Hold on a second, Eric…" he demanded and tugged on Eric's hand, but he was too far gone grinning stupidly at his joyful mother to pay attention. No one was paying attention to him.

"I said, wait!" he tried again, but even his own father was too busy congratulating Lord Mackey for a job well done.

He tore his arm away from Eric, which finally got his attention. "NOW WAIT JUST A GODSDAMNED SECOND!" Kyle bellowed, which caused everyone to fall silent and the orchestra to die instantly. "What the hell is going on, Eric?!"

"What does it look like?" Eric shot back, a shadow of his former self returning. "I've accepted the engagement, Kyle! Aren't you happy?"

"I would if it actually made some godsdamned sense," Kyle frowned with concern. "You've been bitching about this engagement since spring and now after a few minutes you've changed your mind? What gives?"

"Well, it helps that you don't look butt ugly anymore," Eric teased gently. "You're fucking gorgeous!"

Kyle cut through the tripe with his sharp narrowed gaze. "Is that all? Because I'm hot now? Okay whatever. What else?"

"What do you mean  _what else?"_

Realization dawning upon them, Gerald cleared his throat and shook his head at Kyle, but his son dutifully ignored him.

Garrison pinched his nose. "Oh god no. Please don't…"

"Physical shit I get, because you're well…" Kyle faltered, flushing as he gestured to Eric's body. "…yeah."

"Why thank you," Eric trilled with pleasure.

"But I want to know what else do you like about me?" Kyle demanded, his heart lodged in his throat. "No more bullshit, Eric. You can lie and scheme your way through everything else in your life, but for just once, just give this to me.  _Please._  What else did you like about me before that made you change your mind now? Give me a reason to believe that you're genuine about this and I'll shut up and marry you!"

He wanted to believe Eric - his own heart was put on the fucking line for this. Just _one_ answer.

Just beyond Kyle's shoulder, Eric's mother had her hands together as if in prayer, her compassionate eyes begging him for sincerity.

With an entire audience both royal and servant dead silent and waiting, Eric couldn't handle the pressure suddenly put on him. This wasn't fair - Kyle shouldn't be asking this in front of the whole fucking court like it was an epic fairytale!

His breathing grew shorter as those green eyes grew colder with each second and, unable to properly explain the years of confused feelings he had for Kyle in a few simple words, Eric's mouth automatically chose the typical stupid, deflective answer.

"What else is there?"

Stan's jaw dropped along with Jimmy's lute, which clattered loudly onto the floor. Kenny groaned and mumbled the word 'fucking idiot' and Butters could only stand there dumbfounded.

"ARE YOU FUCKING - NO! NOOOO!" Garrison snarled before threatening to pull out the rest of his graying hair. Mackey actually started to hiccup before sniffing despondently into his tiny palms. 

The crowd slowly began to pick up with their mumbling - unable to resist spreading this juicy bit of gossip, but Eric couldn't focus on anything but the sound of his mother's sharp sob and the utter betrayed expression on Kyle's face. Before he could muster an apology, Kyle straightened himself and, with enough dignity left to glare, left the ballroom with his father and brother at his heels.

This was the night where Eric's  _happily ever after_  shattered itself into a thousand pieces.


	9. It's Not What It Seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You should write a book: "How to Insult Elves in Five Syllables or Less."

Kyle's mind had been made up. By the next morning, he was determined to put everything behind him and return to the Drow Kingdom. He had spent thirteen years of his life trying to make it work with Kupa Keep's jackass prince - he didn't feel the need to give thirteen _more_.

And with the shattered Great North impressing upon his own kingdom, he didn't have time to smooth over anything, no matter how much Stan tried to console him.

"No more talking, no more convincing," Kyle said simply. "I'm _done_."

Perhaps this was the gods' way of telling him this wouldn't have worked out to start with. There were no tears, no arguing - just disappointment and avoidance. He didn't even want to see Eric after that disastrous party and apparently, Eric wasn't inclined to chase after him either.

It was better this way. They can both lick their wounds in private and just move on.

To spare his son's wounded honor, Gerald quickly summoned the still packed caravan for departure earlier than expected, despite Liane's protests.

Butters seemed torn at the idea of never seeing Team Drow Elves again. "You're never coming back?"

Kenny sniffled pitifully as she watched her one-sided love tighten the last bit of supplies to his horse. Stan gave her a strange look before he smiled and opened his arms to her one last time. She let out a dramatic sob and nearly strangled him with her crushing embrace.

"Jesus, Kenny," he chuckled as he rubbed her back.

"They're always welcome to Kupa Keep, Paladin Stotch," Liane replied softly, turning her gaze to Kyle. He was determined to keep himself from looking at any of them. "Despite… well… we'll still have a friendly alliance with the Drow. Isn't that right, Eric?"

Eric hovered silently behind his mother, just as determined as Kyle to be anywhere but here. She shook her head in disappointment.

Gerald smiled and took Liane's hands into his. "I'm so sorry about this, Liane. We did try."

Eric stiffened his shoulders at the quiet sob that escaped his mother's throat. "Say goodbye to Kyle, Eric." When he folded his arms, he squeaked when she grabbed his shoulder hard and forced him to turn.

_Say goodbye to Kyle._

In that moment, Eric couldn't even muster a syllable for anything. All he could do was stare at Kyle's back wondering when he'd ever see him again. If he could gather his courage and hold firm, he could change this around. He could apologize and beg Kyle to stay - that he was just being a dumbass at the party and he _did_ have an answer for him. He could refuse to let the caravan leave through the gates until Kyle knew.

But Eric simply grit his teeth and looked down in frustration. "…goodbye, your highness."

Liane looked like she might cry again.

"Give your farewells to the prince, Kyle," Gerald ordered, his tone so sharp the half-elf had no choice but look up.

Kyle paused for a long moment, enough for his stoic mask to slip when he turned his shoulders and said, "Farewell."

 _"Farewell?"_ his father snarled.

"…Prince Eric," Kyle finished and caught Eric's gaze for a brief moment before he disappeared into the carriage.

Eric's petulance evaporated at the disappointment in Kyle's words. _I'm giving up on you._  He knew eventually this was going to happen, but it didn't make him feel any better about it. Having a father was too good to be true and having someone to love was an even bigger joke. All it was - all it had been - was just wishful thinking.

The only thing Eric could do was watch as half of his dysfunctional family trotted through the main gate for the final time.

"Mom…" he sighed at last, finding his voice. "I'm sorry I fucked-"

But she had already left his side for the long walk back to the castle.

* * *

There was a knock on the side of the carriage an hour into the trip back home. Curious, Kyle pulled the curtain back and Stan's head poked through. His helmet was collecting water into his already soaked cloak. The sudden rumble of thunder made Ike squeak and bury his head into his book. 

"Sorry," Stan grinned at the youngest prince. He pulled back to prevent dripping himself all over the upholstery. "It just started raining."

"It doesn't look like it'll let up soon," Gerald agreed with mild concern. "Should we stop by a nearby village and wait out the storm?"

Stan shrugged and reined his horse back to keep up with the carriage. "Captain Petuski doesn't think the rain will complicate the journey for that, your majesty. And Jimmy's been buffering the rain from most of the caravan with music. But there's a chance of landslides, so we're just taking this path slower than usual. If we stop, it's just to get our sentinels hammering to clear any obstructions."

"Thank you for the report, Ranger Marshwalker," the king nodded.

Stan tipped his chin, spared a concerned look at his morose best friend, and closed the curtain again.

After he heard Stan's horse whine further in the back, Gerald decided that he needed to remove Kyle's vow of silence for answers.

 _'What else?'_ Why would Kyle put Eric in such a spot like that for?

When he saw Eric light up in such a way, Gerald had been sure it was genuine. Kyle, on the other hand, didn't seem as convinced. He almost wished Kyle didn't inherit this particular trait from his mother - she too would have probably looked at Eric with the same reservation as Kyle did.

While Ike was preoccupied mouthing constellations from the star map Butters had given him, Gerald decided to take the moment and ask. "What do you have to say for yourself, Kyle?"

He expected more silence, but then there was a shift in Kyle's expression, and the silence was finally over.

"I apologize for ruining the negotiations to unite Kupa Keep with the Drow," Kyle answered, his gaze fixated on his clasped fingers. "I will accept any punishment for my transgressions."

Gerald was relieved that they were opening a dialogue again. Maybe it had something to do with the distance now that they were away from the castle, he wasn't sure, but Kyle's response wasn't exactly what he was looking for. He sighed. "I was hoping to speak less about the diplomacy and more about how you're feeling. The marriage was a devastating loss, but it won't destroy our kingdom."

"I was going to do it," Kyle continued bitterly. "I was _ready_ to do it. I'd do anything for the kingdom - even marry someone I didn't love."

"Then why did you change your mind?"

His son's response was so small, he had to lean forward to hear it.

"I actually fell in love with him," Kyle admitted. "And it… it fucking _hurts_ and it sucks more than if I didn't in the first place."

"Kyle…"

"When you began this whole thing was the love part mandatory or just an extra perk?"

Gerald folded his arms and considered his response.

"Liane and I had hoped that love would happen. Probably more that we ever invested," he finally answered. "Love among royalty is a rare thing. Politics must always take precedence for the sake of a kingdom, but a parent - even a king - never really wishes their children to be without love. We believed this was a better alternative than throwing the both of you into it at the last minute."

Kyle snorted. "Maybe you did it _way_ too well."

"Why don't we take it easy for awhile?" Gerald continued, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Time is still on our side, Kyle. I just think that, well… I don't think it's hopeless like you think…" he trailed off. "…and it's not just about respecting your mother's last wishes. I just believe Eric was genuinely happy about the engagement. What _else_ did you want him to prove?"

"I wanted him to admit that he got over this childish shit and _really_ liked me," Kyle admitted, forcing down the tightness in his throat. "But you saw what he did. He deflected like fucking usual. I just…" he shook his head. "I just have to consider the reality. I can't understand Eric's heart. That's the gist of it. And if I can't believe he's genuine, then I can't accept that he could at least learn to love me."

And he wanted love - he truly did.

"Kyle," Gerald shook his head in absolute disbelief, "you never even gave him the _chance_."

Kyle looked up in surprise. His father's words left him with a confused epiphany he just couldn't comprehend. Then slowly, that one single sentence tore through every one of his well-drawn out excuses against Eric. Had he just been so scared of heartbreak that he never took that first step in the first place?

"I…" Kyle couldn't even begin to voice his thoughts. What if _he_ was the one who fucked up and not the other way around? Maybe Eric _did_ have a change of heart and, because of his own fear, ruined not just the kingdom, but his actual chances with the boy - no _man_ , that he really did care for.

Gerald never thought his heart could be broken a second time since Sheila's death, but it did when he watched the conflict work itself behind Kyle's eyes. He squeezed his son's shoulder tight to ground him from spiraling out of control.

"We can go back and sort this out, Kyle. We can do it together."

The carriage rolled to an abrupt stop. Even Jimmy's music that had intertwined itself with the rain earlier had suddenly ceased. Gerald looked through the window while Kyle checked the opposite one. He found Stan ride up on his side again, but the ranger was focused on something in the distance.

"What's going on?" Kyle asked him. "A landslide?"

Stan frowned. Instinct made him grip the sword on his belt. "Some asshole's blocking the path."

Gerald moved to get out first. "Stay inside with Ike, Kyle," he urged before leaving the carriage with his guard in tow. Stan kept cautious vigil on the young royals while their king confronted the black cloaked man.

"You are blocking the path, sir!" the Captain snarled through the rain. "By order of the Drow, move aside!"

Kyle couldn't hear the response through the howling wind and rain, but all of a sudden the man opened his arms and transformed into a large and fearsome beast. "What the fuck?!" he screeched.

It let out an unholy roar before charging straight at the caravan. The protectors nor the enforcers even had the chance to raise their weapons in defense.

When the horses started to freak out and scatter, Stan was tossed off of Cinnamon just as the great animal tore through the soldiers like paper and attacked the carriage.

* * *

"What else is there?" Garrison had the nerve to mock for the fiftieth time. "What. Else. Is. There."

Mackey was sequestered in the corner of the recreational room just sniffling his eyes out by the crackling fire. "W-w-we were so close, m'kay! All those y-y-years preparing wasted!" He blew into a hanky Butters gave him before calming under the gentle pats on his back.

"There, there," Butters consoled. "You'll be alright, Lord Mackey!"

Eric, in the midst of an actual chess game with Kenny to take his mind off of this, just about had enough with his subjects' disrespect. "You assholes aren't making this any easier!" he growled. "Don't you think I've been humiliated enough?!"

Kenny snatched up his king and playfully waved the piece at him. "With your ego? Not enough."

"Fuck! That's twice in one day!" Eric grumbled and switched tactics to save his queen at least. When Kenny was close to checkmating him, Eric had enough and just knocked the entire chess set over.

He patiently waited for Kyle's sharp retort about him being a sore loser, but then realized he was a dumbass. Eric deflated and dumped his face into his hands. "FUCK!"

"I just don't understand!" Garrison continued with his ranting. "Why couldn't you have just made some sort of shit up? You know what you could've said? _You have a lovely personality._ _I think you're just swell. Your smile makes my loins quiver with love._ Any generic piece of shit quote from a harlequin novel could have done the job and _that_ was your best you can do?!"

Kenny smiled pitifully at Eric's slump of defeat while she picked up the chess pieces. "It's because he can't lie to Kyle anymore. He'd just see right through his stupid ass. Isn't that right, your highness?"

Butters tilted his head innocently. "Hoo boy, lyin' is a sin, Eric! There's gotta be something else you like about Prince Kyle, right? I mean, you've known each other for years!"

"I'm not a fucking idiot, Butters! Of course I like him for more than just his looks!" Eric snapped and, after a moment, he floundered again for the right words. "It's just… when he's… and you know… that's what I like about him - oh shut the fuck up!"

Kenny started to laugh.

"All I'm hearing is a whole lot of nothin', sorry your highness," Butters frowned.

Eric stood up so fast, his chair fell over. "It's _not_ nothing! I just can't explain it! But when I see Kyle… and when he leaves… I don't know! But what I _do_ know is that I really want to marry him, okay?! Isn't that enough?! But no, he had to just put me on fucking blast in front of the entire court and then leave like a little bitch!"

Maybe words just wasn't enough. Kyle's made it fairly obvious that anything that comes out of Eric's fat mouth should be treated with absolute suspicion.

"I'll prove it to him!" he realized, feeling finally sure of himself for the first time since last night. "I'll _prove_ to Kyle that I'm seriously into him! Then we can finally get this shit squared away!"

"Well that's all fine and dandy, Eric," Garrison snarked. "But just how the hell are you going to go about that when they're halfway to elfland by now?"

Eric's indignant answer was lost the moment the doors were suddenly thrown open and a guard came rushing in.

"Ranger Marshwalker of the Drow has returned!" the man announced urgently. "There's been an attack-"

Eric shoved past the guard before he could even finish his sentence.

The commotion outside in the main hallway brought the rest of the royal family and their subjects running. A couple of Kupa Keeps guards were hauling a very battered and wounded Stan and, with the last of his energy spent, he collapsed onto his knees with Ike held tight in his bloodied grip.

"Y… your majesties…" he croaked, dribbling blood into the carpet. "Help…"

Liane immediately took Gerald's adopted child into her arms. "Oh God, Ike!" Ike slackened in her arms - traumatized and unresponsive. "What happened, Stan?!"

Kenny literally howled in despair at Stan's mauled form. Her dress flapped erratically down the stairs to reach her wounded beloved while Butters did his best to magically treat the worst of Stan's wounds.

Eric could simply do nothing but remain rooted to the foot of the stairs.

"We were attacked…!" Stan rasped out before succumbing into Kenny's arms. "The king… Kyle…"

_Kyle._

His mother's shrill shout for him was ignored. Eric stole the first horse he saw and galloped as fast as he could towards the woods. His chest pounded in fear at what he might find at the end of the familiar path their carriage used time and time again.

The heavy rain and loud crackling thunder was a death knell from God, but Eric refused to accept the idea that something had happened to King Gerald and Kyle. His horse whined and strained from the prolonged speed to bridge the distance faster than normally possible.

Not like this. Eric begged God not to do this to him - not when he had yet to prove to himself to Kyle. He nearly stumbled off of his exhausted horse when he found the mayhem of torn bodies belonging to King Gerald's guards and the carriage turned over on its side.

"Kyle!" he shouted over the rain and threw open the carriage door. He found nothing inside but upturned cushions and torn upholstery - there were no signs of blood. Kyle and his father could have made a run for it and Stan simply lost them in the process.

"Search the area!" he barked at his men, who had finally caught up to him.

"Yes, your highness!"

Further down the path there were more bodies. Eric turned over each one, wincing as each corpse was much worse the closer he got to the end of the path. The elderly Captain of the guard even had his head completely torn off. Lowering his eyes with respect, Eric stabbed his sword into the mud to flag the corpse collectors later.

None of them were Kyle nor the king. He was allowed a shuddering breath of relief, but it didn't last long.

His heart sank into his stomach when he saw a familiar ornate cloak peeking out from behind a broken tree. Fear and denial kept him from moving forward until he saw movement and, desperate to hope, he found King Gerald leaning against the trunk and holding his middle.

"…Eric…?" Gerald gasped, unable to blink away the rain from his eyes. Eric undid his cloak and draped it over their heads. That was when he realized the king's unnatural trembling was not from being cold, but from injury.

Swallowing hard, Eric lifted up Gerald's shaking arm and let out a hiss of despair. King Gerald's insides were literally spilling out of a bleeding gouged hole and was only held together by pressure and dwindling determination.

"It… It's okay. You'll be fine…" Eric whispered brokenly. "Hang on for just a bit longer, your majesty!" He snapped over his shoulder, "Guards! Fucking find me a healer! _Guards!_ "

Gerald shook his head. "Did… my boy… Ike…?"

Eric nodded, trying his best to staunch the wound with his own hand, but found that he was only pressing into blood and guts. This couldn't be fixed. It couldn't. "Y-yeah, he's safe. Mom… Mom has him. Where's… oh God…" He didn't know what to say to the man just a memory ago he had teasingly called _dad_. "What happened? Shit, what the fuck…?"

"Listen… listen…" Gerald urged, his words but a faint whisper now. "A great beast… unnatural. Shapeshifted from a man…"

"And Kyle?" he asked desperately, choking back a sob the longer he watched the life drain away from the older man's face. "What about Kyle?!"

Gerald started blink desperately at the mere mention of his name. He took Eric's hand in his bloodied one. "Kyle… oh Eric… I'm sorry…"

Why? Why was he sorry?!

"Your majesty! Please! Don't go…" Eric cried out.

"Kyle's… gone…" The king brought a shaky hand against the young man's cheek. Something cool and metallic pressed against Eric's skin, but he simply steadied the man's hand with his own and squeezed.

Gerald let out his final breath for Eric. "My son…"

A string of jewelry slipped from the king's slack fingers and bounced off of Eric's knee to rest in the mud. After a long moment, Eric finally picked up the item and realized it was the gold pendant he had given Kyle all those years ago. 

Gone. That one single word tore through him like he was the one who had been ripped apart by the monster instead. Eric could only kneel there blankly by the dead elf's side, feeling nothing in its place but this yawning emptiness that he almost couldn't bear.

Eric hissed in a half-strangled whimper before gently draping his cloak over the fallen king. He couldn't handle losing another father a second time… and Kyle.

Kyle was…

He viciously shrugged off one of the guards who tried to console him with a hand on his shoulder. Eric stumbled with renewed energy and slipped on the mud - blind to nothing but the fact that his world was ending a second time.

This was his fault. It was all of his fault. If he had begged them to stay - got down on his hands and knees and just fucking groveled - it would have been worth losing all the pride in the world to prevent this.

Kyle was gone. He couldn't… he _can't_ make things right anymore. Eric pounded the mud with his fist over and over - physically trying to beat the despair out of his system like the disease it was. And when that wasn't enough, he let out a horrible howl, uncaring if his men saw their future king in this deranged state. None of that mattered anymore.

"KYLE!" he bellowed before hunching down. The pendant almost slipped away from his fingers.

He turned it in his hand. Kyle was smart, resourceful, and powerful enough to kick his own ass on more than one occasion. He _had_ to be alive. Eric _needed_ to believe that he was still alive.

"I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD, KYLE!" he swore against the loud thunder. "I'LL _FIND_ YOU! I SWEAR!" He screamed himself hoarse with his promise before eventually twisting the chain around his fingers. "I'll find you…" he continued, treating the words like an insane survival mantra.

He had to believe. He had to prove to Kyle that he wasn't going to give up on him. If he didn't, he didn't think he could deal with the reality.


	10. As Soon as the Moon Comes Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll die first.

_The Thirteenth Summer - Three Hours Earlier_

Magic did not work on the creature. The Drow caravan learned that the hard way when the monster tore easily through Jimmy's magical barrier like parchment paper.

The great animal's claws ripped across the swathe of enforcers before it tore through the roof of the carriage in an instant bloodbath. Kyle quickly grabbed Ike and braced them to the floor as the carriage tipped over onto its side.

Stan jumped onto the overturned carriage and threw the door open. "Shit, shit, shit! We gotta go!" he urged and took the youngest prince Kyle offered to him. "Come on, Kyle!"

But before Kyle could climb up after them, the great animal swiped at Stan, who managed to throw Ike away at the last second. Stan howled in pain before he lost his footing and fell hard with a splat onto the mud.

"Ike! Stan!" Kyle shouted, struggling out of the carriage as the beast jumped high in the air at the injured ranger and young prince for its death strike. 

Kyle stumbled out and, scrambling for a weapon, he found a bleeding unresponsive elf priest hanging off the upturned wagon. A bamboo stave was still clutched tight in her cold fingers.

 _That'll do_ , he thought grimly.

A sharp whistling sound enveloped the sounds of thunder. Stan looked up and found Kyle thrust the stave into the mud. A giant wall of bamboo Kyle called upon suddenly shot up from the ground and blocked the creature's rampage completely. The animal bounced off the wall, let out a sickening snarl, and used its claws to continue slashing at it to get to them.

"I'll hold it off, Stan!" Kyle grunted. "Take my brother with you! Go back to Kupa Keep!" The animal let out a bloodcurdling screech and barred its snout between the shoots to futilely snap at them in answer.

Ike could only sit in the mud and cry in terror.

"I'm not leaving you here, Kyle!" Stan refused, unaware by how much damage the monster did to his back already. He reached for his scabbard, but found his sword had been lost in the initial wave.

The creature's relentless attacks were quickly chipping and snapping into the bamboo shoots with every second, making Kyle desperate. "Yes. you. are!" With the rest of his strength, Kyle forced the last of his magic to summon the final array of bamboo shoots from the ground- this time going on the offensive.

While the animal was much too fast for a fatal attack, it did scream in pain when some of the sharp shoots managed to stab it in the shoulder. It clumsily went reeling into the mud - down but certainly not out.

"Hurry, Stan!" Kyle shouted over his shoulder. "Protect Ike!"

Stan looked torn watching Kyle do battle with the monster, but with a more precious cargo now wailing in his arms, he had no choice but to follow orders. The youngest prince needed to be safe. He struggled to his feet, unaware of the blood from his wounds dripping onto the forest floor.

"I'll get help, I swear!" he shouted in agony before he darted into the trees for the city.

Satisfied, Kyle wiped the rain from his face and spun the stave around for a physical confrontation. It couldn't be helped at this point. He was almost depleted of magic - but the beast couldn't have known that. "Let's go asshole!" he snarled. "I'll make you _feel_ every single breath you've stolen from my men!"

The creature tore off the bamboo shoot with its teeth and snarled with fiendish delight before bounding with great distance after him again. This time Kyle was ready and, with staff in hand, he twisted and smacked it on its skull hard enough that it sidewinded into a tree.

"That was for Priestess Lindsey," Kyle chastised as he slowly stalked after the creature, Lindsey's stave dragging along the mud with him. "You've got _twenty-six_ more sins to pay for."

"Kyle…" Gerald groaned from far off, lost beneath the bodies of his guards.

"Dad!" he shouted and ran towards his injured father instead. But before he could even reach him, Kyle was suddenly shoved from behind and thrown into the mud, but instead of the great animal…

"Eric?!" he stuttered, stunned by the manic glee in the human prince's eyes before he grabbed his throat and tried to choke the life out of him. Kyle winced and cried out from the pressure, unable to process that Eric was actually trying to kill him - that he was the demonic creature.

"…get off… asshole!" he gasped and grabbed at Eric's wrists, only his pulse beneath the skin didn't beat the same way - and his heart, despite Kyle swearing he always lacked one, was not there. He focused hard and, instead of Eric, he saw his true form - an older man with wild red hair and a psychotic glint in his eyes.

"You… shapeshifting… putz!" To both of their surprises, an almost overwhelming sensation of heat against his chest made the creature shriek out. A burst of magical flame suddenly threatened to separate the two. 'Eric' went reeling backwards in a painful shout and Kyle took that moment to tear off the front of his robes in panic before he too was caught on fire.

Kyle frowned in confusion, only finding the stupid gold pendant Eric gave him when they were young and no burns to show for it. He glared at the man. "You stupid fucker…" he snarled. "Elves can see right through your shit disguises!" Though he had to admit, he got Eric's humongous weight down to a T. He almost _believed_ it was him otherwise.

 _ **"** **Duly noted,"**_ the shapeshifter snarled right on back before he snapped the chain off Kyle's neck, sending the pendant bouncing across the wet dirt. Before Kyle could retaliate, the shapeshifter thrusted his palm against Kyle's exposed chest and slipped out a few choice words that sent the hairs on the back of Kyle's neck prickling in alarm.

_**"Au vouz le dembalah~"** _

A containment spell.

Kyle squirmed the moment he felt tendrils of cold magic seep into his skin like a disease. It eventually ran through his veins until it slowly enveloped and constricted around the pulsing core of magic the gods had bestowed upon him the moment he was born.

Gerald could hear his son's horrified protests and peered just long enough to see the shapeshifter - under the guise of Eric - curse Kyle out of his magic.

"Stop!" Kyle screamed.

 _ **"** **On the contrary,"**_ the shapeshifter hissed. _**"** **You've got thirteen years worth of sins to pay for."**_ The human form started to unfurl and, standing under its great paws, was the great animal again.

Gerald fought to get up, only to find his wounds were far too great. With the last bit of his magic, he summoned an energy beam to hit the creature, only for it to absorb the attack and send it right on back.

Enveloped by his own burning light, he smacked and crumpled right against the base of a tree. He could only helplessly watch as the shapeshifter bit into the scruff of Kyle's robes by his large fangs and jumped over the trees and out of sight.

"Kyle…!" he yelled out with all of his strength, but the gods did not hear his plea.

Defeated and full of despair for his sons, Gerald's strength started to fail him. That was when he could have sworn he heard his late wife's voice calling out to him.

* * *

_Three Days Later_

The only other survivor of the massacre was Jimmy, who was recovered further on by patrol trying to crawl his way to a nearby town. Liane was absolutely devastated when Eric returned with Gerald's body and, with a heavy heart, the entire castle was drawn down into a state of grieving.

Out of respect for the slain elves, they sent them back to the Drow Kingdom to be properly buried and returned to the earth. A few of Kupa Keep's subjects found the rite to be utterly barbaric and unsanitary, but surprisingly, it was _Garrison_ who put a cork on the gossip. Eric supposed that his tutor drew the line on speaking ill of the dead. And when Garrison appeared by his side during the tribute to King Gerald, he was surprised to find the elder man begrudgingly sympathetic for the elves.

"For what it's worth Eric, I hate Mino'Rities more," Garrison offered consolingly. It was oddly heartwarming - ridiculous as fuck - but heartwarming coming from _him_.

King Gerald's body was sent home last because it needed to be guarded by a large procession of elven guards for the Drow land safely. Eric wanted to give him a proper Kupa Keep funeral instead, but they were in enough hot water as most of the royal family was murdered on their own lands. Bending down and letting the elves take them up the ass for once was the only thing politically sound at this point.

Still, Eric launched a boat with favors for the king before turning it into a burning beacon across the sea. Gerald wasn't his father - but he had been the closest to it - and he deserved some kind of respect that Kupa Keep had to offer.

And he wanted… he wanted to apologize and say goodbye.

"Bye, dad…" he muttered, watching the boat drift away into the setting horizon. His mother spent a few more minutes crying into his shoulder, looking more like a widow than a friend in her black funeral gown. Ike simply stood there watching the boat with Liane's hand in his. He never said a word the moment he returned to the castle with Stan. Only Kyle would have brought the voice back out of his little brother.

And now that he was gone…

After Liane left the cliff side with Ike in tow, Lady Heidi wasted no time curtsying from behind before replacing the queen at Eric's side. "Your highness, I am so sorry for your loss."

He gave her a simple sidelong look before gazing back out to the sea. _Why do all the stupid bitches have to jump on my dick during a funeral_ , he wondered irritably. There was hardly any scope of dignity whatsoever with the maidens of Kupa Keep apparently.

Heidi didn't seem to take his unnatural silence as an incentive to buzz off. He could feel the sweep of her silky dress against his arm as she moved closer and, quite frankly, he was starting to get seriously pissed off.

"Prince Kyle was a great person," she said with a sad sigh. "Losing him must be really tough on you, your grace. If you need support, please do not hesitate to seek my company."

Eric glared ahead of him, not even giving her the pleasure of eye-to-eye conversation. "He's _lost_ , not dead, Turner."

She fell silent, but he could feel the disbelief rolling off of her in waves. Whatever. He didn't give a flying shit what she thought. What she was doing here - after it went through the grapevine that Eric was now no longer engaged - he knew exactly why she and every other strumpet were pretending that they gave a shit about him now.

As Kyle had predicted, sharks like Heidi came circling in for a piece of royal pie.

Heidi tried another tactic. "We all must grieve in our own way…"

"Yeah well, you can take your own way and grieve that ass somewhere else," Eric snapped. "For fuck's sakes, we don't even have a _body_ and already you fuckers are fighting for the throne!"

Insulted, she clutched her pearls. "I wasn't…"

Thankfully, Butters popped up like a fucking saint to bow before her. "Please forgive his highness, Lady Turner! Like you said, everyone grieves in their own way. This is his way… um… unfortunately."

When Butters took Heidi away, he returned a few minutes later with Kenny in tow, who had been visiting Stan this entire time.

"The king's body is barely cold and your court has the balls to send in their prettiest ladies to snatch your favor so early, your highness," Kenny snorted. "Did you know I've been uninvited to three tea parties because of you?"

Eric frowned. "That's a fucking odd thing to say."

She would have snickered, but this was a funeral. "Well, they think I've got a better shot at being queen because we hang out. Typical princess bitchocracy."

"God-fucking-dammit," Eric muttered. "It would make more sense if you were a man."

She pouted. "Well there's no need to be insulting."

Butters looked to Eric and started rubbing his knuckles with nervousness. "I don't want to be a debbie-downer, but shouldn't we also prepare the funeral rites for -"

"Don't make me punch you, Butters," Eric growled and that was that. With a final sweep of his black cape, he walked away looking every bit the part of a mourning royal - albeit a pissed off one now.

Jimmy only suffered cosmetic damage to his legs, but he was crippled anyway so it wasn't a big deal. Stan was in and out of danger in comparison - he would have become completely paralyzed from the waist down like Jimmy if he didn't receive medical attention on time.

The last he heard from Kenny was Stan actually managing to stay awake today. He had been determined to watch the funeral procession from a nearby window.

Liane, astonishingly enough, didn't hold the hope that Kyle survived the incident and she certainly didn't entertain the idea that Kyle was simply taken hostage by this unusual creature instead of eaten. She mourned both Gerald and Kyle equally before she had to deal with the political backlash. They needed to move on.

As far as Eric knew from Mackey, the Drow Kingdom instinctively shut down its borders as soon as the dead were returned home. Rumors abound that they considered it the humans' fault that they lost their beloved ruler and heir. All trade from Kupa Keep to even the territorial borders of Mino'Rity were effectively caught off by a giant wall of thorns and poisonous plants. Communications to the main kingdom was limited to royalty only, but there was little to talk to them about except to apologize again.

They never wanted Ike. He wasn't a legit heir to the throne to start with, so Liane had no qualms keeping him in the castle. She tried to coax him into speaking the last few days, but to no avail. Losing his adopted family was a second tragedy he probably couldn't comprehend.

Eric was supposed to care about what happened to the Drow Kingdom, but he didn't. He knew Kyle was alive - lived and breathed this insane idea that should only be reserved for stupid fairytales. As soon as Kyle was found, he was sure they could sort through all of this shit with the Drow. Until then, they could stick their heads up their own asses for all he cared.

But what kind of creature would massacre a king just to steal a prince? That was the argument against going on a wild goose chase for Kyle.

No one believed Eric was sane except for Stan, who was already too stubborn and loyal to start with. While the weeks passed and normalcy slowly returned to the grieving kingdom, Eric didn't stop investigating and searching the libraries for information on shapeshifters and those relatively known for it.

In addition, he summoned every living shapeshifter in the kingdom and subjected them to interrogation while Stan recovered. Despite Garrison's deterrent, he ordered his mentor to forcefully induce them so he could learn what shapes they could take and which one was close to Jimmy's description of this 'great animal'.

By the end of the week, he found that there was nothing remarkable about the local shapeshifters. The most threatening they could transform into were domesticated animals and, while he certainly believed house cats were threatening, he was sure an entire armed party of magical elves could have taken Mr. Kitty on just fine.

Once he received word that Stan was strong enough to muster simple conversation, Eric made his way to the physician's ward. Someone had abandoned their loom on the window side of Stan's bed and he suspected that it was Kenny trying to win the ranger's favor by weaving him something.  

"Her Majesty visited me an hour ago," Stan said hoarsely as he struggled to sit up. "She wanted me to convince you to stop with the investigation. It's unhealthy."

Eric snorted and took the seat next to him. "I really don't give a shit."

With nothing but tense silence to permeate the air, Eric continued to spin Kyle's pendant between his fingers. His thoughts were lost to the faded memory of green eyes and that coquettish smirk with every spin.

"Kyle's alive," Eric said eventually. "I'm not gonna stop searching until that creature's head is mounted on my fucking wall."

Stan grimly watched the prince play with the pendant before resting his head back on the pillow. "I know. And I'm not gonna stop you because as soon as get out of this damn bed, I'm going. If I have to reach the borders of Zaron for answers, I'll do it."

"Fuck you," Eric snapped. "That's my idea. You can't steal it."

Stan laughed, but couldn't hold it much longer because he started coughing again. "You know, I wish you acted more like this around Kyle. Maybe he wouldn't be so worried you were just yanking his chain all the time." He fixed Eric with a serious look. "You know he liked you."

"I know," Eric looked away and glared. "I like him too. A lot. I really fucking do."

"Then why the hell couldn't you have told him that at the banquet?" Stan demanded. "Why'd you fuck up like that?"

Over and over people were beating him in the head with this. Eric couldn't help but snap back. "Well it's not like we were fucking talking about it over tea! The whole room was watching me!"

With a disgusted scoff, he got up, kicked his chair aside and moved to the lone window. "I can't explain it Stan, fuck okay?! All I could think about at the time was how hot Kyle got! I didn't think Kyle wanted a fucking checklist of things he wanted to hear!"

Stan rubbed at the sewn cut on his temple. "I'm regretting getting you riled up."

"This doesn't even matter," Eric agreed. "Right now, I need more information on that beast. Jimmy's description of the animal is absolute shit. All he could tell me is that it was a giant horned thing. Am I gonna have to look through the elk farms first?"

"Give him a break, it was raining out," Stan grumbled. "The creature was big enough to spook the horses. When I got launched off of Cinnamon, I was more invested trying to save the royal family than playing the part of a beastmaster. I remember dark crimson fur… and those poisonous green eyes. And it had sharp horns too. They did a number on Kyle's defenses."

Eric sighed in frustration. He supposed the only one who could actually put a positive ID on someone would be Kyle himself. Or…

"Wait… did… you said Ike saw the whole thing too?" 

"Don't do that," Stan frowned in disapproval, catching on. "The prince is traumatized enough. Hell, her Majesty said he hasn't talked since that night anyways! What makes you think you're going to get any answers from him?"

But Eric was already getting up from his seat and cracked the door open. "If there's a chance he can help find Kyle, I'm going to do whatever it takes." He fixed Stan with a determined look. "Are you capable of doing the same?"

"You poor demented asshole," Stan sighed, but couldn't stop Eric from closing the door behind him and leaving. 

* * *

Deep within the forest magically hidden lay a dilapidated castle that was once the summer home of the former rulers of Kupa Keep. The towering structure loomed menacingly in the darkness. The only beauty that belonged to the property was the small lake that surrounded it - providing a natural buffer between man made stone and the encroaching forest.

A beautiful but pissed off young stag with dark red fur charged and chased his captor's assistant up a tree - a strangely gentle man donned up in sexual leather attire.

"Ahhh! Jethus Chriths!" The man squealed. He clung onto the branch for dear life while the stag slammed and gouged at the trunk with his horns. The rest of the salad bounced onto the ground.

"Is this what my little brother had to deal with?" A deep, coy voice rang out. "Poor Sir Slave. He was only trying to feed you out of the goodness of his heart."

A violent magical wind staggered the male deer until he was thrown unceremoniously away and back into the glittering lake. Lord Scott Tenorman retreated from the shadows and pulled his dark hood down, revealing wild auburn hair and eyes the color of acid.

The stag glared disdainfully at him, shook water from his horns, and regally paced away along the shallow end. 

"So fussy," Scott continued with a grin. "But that's what you get for trying to die on me. I suppose that's my fault too, hmm? I've forgotten what a stone prison does for delicate woodsy elves. But I bet that's what you wanted to happen. You die like a martyr and my plans to take over Kupa Keep go unraveled, and your precious Eric is safe and none-the-wiser. Very clever… oh so very clever."

The stag turned completely around and flipped his tail up, offering his majestic ass for Scott to talk to instead.

"Now that hurt my feelings," he pouted before looking up. The moon began its rise above the castle and over the lake. Sir Slave clumsily fell out of the tree, moaning in pain before he joined his master. "My little martyr doth thinks me an abusive host doesn't he, Sir Slave?" Scott asked him. "Watch as the moonlight touches the lake."

"Oooooh! I love surprises!" Sir Slave clapped gleefully.

Confused, the stag looked at the water as it started to glisten with magic and, as the once still water billowed and raised upward, he tried run away, only to be completely surrounded in a cocoon of moonlight and water.

The waves finally broke and in the stag's place was the missing elven prince. Kyle opened his eyes, examined the return of actual fingers, and then glared at Scott.

"And that's how the spell works," the older man said smugly while he watched Kyle struggle out of the lake. "As long as the moon hits the lake, you'll remain in your true form. Quite a romantic bit of magic, don't you think?"

"Clearly," Kyle hissed. "I'm sure you had all the time in the world practicing being a solitary freak with a vengeance complex."

Scott shrugged. "That psychoanalyzing bullshit might work for that idiot, but it sure doesn't faze me. Not at all. And maybe… that's what would make us a very formidable couple."

Kyle paused from shaking off the excess water from his robes. "What?" he asked flatly.

"Your family has something very important. A very precious dowry," Scott purred. "Does the Stick of Truth mean anything to you?"

The words made Kyle's eyes narrow. "So that's why you have me hostage like this. You want to blackmail me into marrying you so you can have legitimate control of the Stick."

"Unfortunately it has to come to that, yes." With a spit of magic, Scott turned himself into a mirror likeness of Kyle for emphasis. "Otherwise, I would have just donned your form and waltzed in after it myself."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "That shapeshifting shit doesn't work with elves. We know an imposter when we see it."

"I discovered that, yes…" Scott's new eyes suddenly glittered, but whatever he was scheming, he was obviously not going to share it with the rest of the class. He transformed back into his true form and dramatically sighed. "But come on, we both know I'm a better match than _Eric Cartman_ of all people. Think about it…"

In a flurry of magic, the Kyle found himself dressed in a familiar elvish ceremonial tunic and the world around them turned into a bright banquet hall with people clapping for them.

Kyle examined the bouquet with a bored glare. "I think we're in agreement that Eric's a dick," he began before shoving the bouquet right into Scott's arms. The magic faded away instantly, leaving them back on the lake, "but he's never turned me into an animal against my will. That's a point in his favor."

"If you knew the truth, you wouldn't be defending him so much," Scott growled, tossing the bouquet aside with a flurry of sparks. "You'll find that the wronged person in this whole kingdom is _me_ \- and with you and the Stick of Truth on my side, I can retake what was rightfully mine."

Whatever machinations Scott had was just white noise to Kyle's ears. All that mattered to him was how his family was faring. "Every night you've asked me this question and every night I give you the same answer: _fuck off_ ," he said darkly. "If you won't tell me what happened to my father, then I'll go and find out myself."

He began climbing up the stone steps toward the trees when Scott laughed. "And where the hell do you think you're going? My spell keeps you from using magic…" he gestured to the lake. "…and once the moonlight leaves the lake, you'll turn back into a stag. It might even be permanent if you stray too far from it. Care to try that out and see how long you'll go before a hunter sees you? Be my guest."

Kyle began to shake in anger. "The fuck is your problem?!" he snarled, turning back around. "I understand people who want the throne, but this is way too fucking convoluted of a plan you have here! You keep going on night after night about taking back Kupa Keep, but I've never even heard of you before!"

"That's because that whore of a woman you call a _queen_ made sure my lineage was erased from history," Scott replied coolly. "As you see, I'm the rightful heir of Kupa Keep. But when her little bastard whelp caught me off guard in a magical duel, he had the power to strip me of my title and make it his own."

Kyle shook his head. "I don't remember him ever dueling someone in magical combat."

"That's because it was before your time, sweetie," Sir Slave pointed out lazily while leafing through a dirty novel. "Like before you were born, I think."

Fortunately, Kyle was very proficient in arithmetic. "Wait… Eric beat you when he was a baby?"

Scott's very perturbed silence was answer enough.

Kyle hiccuped, or it sounded like it, until it turned into a snicker. Despite the poisonous glare in his direction, Kyle couldn't help but fall into hysterical laughter which was infectious enough to make Sir Slave laugh alongside with him.

"SHUT UP!" Scott snarled at the both of them.

"You've got to admit that's pretty pathetic!" Kyle cried out and wiped away his tears. "What, did he magically shit his diaper and that was the end of you?"

Sir Slave chortled. "Oh my goodness! Jesthus Chrithst!"


	11. As Constant as a Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I close my eyes and I am where you are.

"I DID NOT SHIT MY DIAPER, KYLE!" Eric shouted before snapping himself out of bed. He glared at nothing in particular, still dazed and sure Kyle was around to laugh at him.

The only thing he was greeted with was the sound of birds chirping outside and the reality that Kyle wasn't here. He hadn't been here for almost two months. Or  _dead_ , according to his mother and everyone else in the castle.

Actual fucking depression hit him hard. What if Lord Mackey was right? What if this senseless quest to find Kyle was all in vain and this was just a trick of his mind to cope with the loss of an old childhood friend?

He sighed and scratched at his chest. The chain of Kyle's pendant tangled around his fingers like a kiss. It made him think and wonder the hundreds of times he could have kissed Kyle over the years only to chicken out at the last moment.

Maybe the last kiss they would ever have together was the one at the banquet. It was like a physical epiphany - just how right it felt to have Kyle's lips against his and how stupid he was for not noticing the attraction before. He had been so stubbornly used to having Kyle invade his life that he never considered the romantic or sexual implications of it - and everyone else had.

And now that he may never have the chance to experience it felt like robbery to Eric. He just couldn't accept defeat about this. It wasn't his nature.

He eventually dragged his ass out of bed and got dressed. The servants were still perplexed by his new morning routine the last few weeks. Eric had always been a heavy sleeper and would happily doze through the afternoon if no one disturbed him, but he supposed that sleep just didn't make him happy anymore.

Neither did eating. Or buying grand things. His entire world was moving at a slow crawl without Kyle to entertain him over the summer. And now that summer was halfway over…

Fuck, there goes that depressive state again. The first thing he was going to do was skip breakfast and see if he can get Ike to talk to him again. That was the only thing he felt productive in doing. Sometimes, if Stan was feeling strong enough for it, he'd join Eric in the library while they continued to research shapeshifters and mythical beasts. He was due for a bit more physical therapy to get him walking again anyways.

Eric wasted no time tossing a random jacket on and nearly clipped his mother on the way out. "Mom?" he asked, mildly confused. "What are you doing here?"

Liane stood there, not really sure where she could go with this. Ever since Gerald's funeral, Eric had become a completely different person. He was subdued, quiet, and extremely caustic whenever she or Mackey mentioned giving up this futile quest. 

She took a steady inhale. "Eric, it's been two months and I think it's time that we move on from this. The Drow elves have asked that, since the engagement would be impossible between our kingdoms, that we return the heirloom Kyle gave you as dowry."

Heirloom? Brow furrowed in confusion, Eric rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh… it must have been uninspiring, because I don't really remember what that was."

Everyone else might have believed him, but Eric was her  _son_. She caught onto his lie and opened her palm to him. "Eric," she began patiently, using the same tone she used on him when he was a child and belligerent. "Hand over the stick."

His blue eyes instantly turned sharp and invasive. After a beat, he turned around and retreated into his bedroom, threw open the foot chest at the end of his bed, and started rummaging through it.

"This?" he inquired, holding the stick lazily in his palm. It really  _was_  uninspiring. Kupa Keep gave Kyle a fancy gold amulet and, in typical fashion, the Drow elves gave him a  _stick_. He remembered Kyle giving him the third degree about it - that the stick was super special because it came from the World Tree, but Eric always had a sneaking suspicion that he was talking out of his ass.

Liane nodded and reached for it, only for Eric to snatch it away from her reach.

"Eric," she sighed. "Please don't make a game out of this."

"It's not a game," Eric retorted. "It's a stupid ass stick, but it's mine." And it was the only physical representation that Kyle was still his fiance. As far as the Drow elf council were concerned, they'd have to pry it from his cold, dead hands.

She lowered her arm and said gently, "You know, Eric, it's been hard on all of us…"

Oh gods. Eric rolled his eyes and maneuvered past her. "Not this again, mother. I've gotten a fucking earful from Garrison the other day and I don't need another one now."

"I know you're going to interrogate Ike again," she implored. "You're so disturbed by your… _'quest'_ that you're further traumatizing a poor boy who lost his family! Don't you think you're getting out of hand with this?"

Eric stuffed the stick into his belt before his mother could sneak and snatch it like she did with his candy in the past. "You don't understand, mother. Ike had a good look at the beast that killed the King. If I can get him to help, I can find the person capable of shapeshifting into it and save Kyle!"

She shook her head. "You still think Kyle's out there, sweetie, but we need look at the truth-"

"-the truth is Kyle is alive," he interrupted with such conviction it broke Liane's heart. "I can't explain it, mom. I can't. I just know." He thumped his chest where the pendant hid, pressed against his skin. "He's in here and he's calling for me to get my shit together and find him."

Liane couldn't help it. She didn't want to see her son turn into a mental wreck like Gerald had been when Sheila died. His only saving grace had been his son, but Eric had nothing of the sort to ground him from the despair. 

"Please see reality!" she begged and grabbed at his jacket. "You have to move on! Kyle is gone and he's never coming back! You need to stop killing yourself with this! You don't eat anymore and all you do is research or train! You don't even want to begin your season! What about your coronation? You're going to be king soon!"

"You don't get it, do you?" he snarled. His words were starting to carry loud enough for the servants to eavesdrop, but frankly couldn't give a shit about propriety. "You think I'm doing this because I'm guilty for this whole thing, right? That if I didn't fuck up at the banquet, the King could have lived and Kyle wouldn't have been kidnapped!"

"I don't care about that!" she stuttered into tears. "I want you to just move on, Eric!"

"Fuck moving on!" he screamed before kicking his foot chest over. "I can't move on without him! Don't you fucking get it?! It's like I'm dying inside and I can't stop it! But I guess you can't ever understand that, can you? Not when you were the town whore!"

A loud slap enveloped the entire chamber. Eric's face turned in surprise, his cheek blossoming bright red when Liane put her hand on him. Her anger turned to despair at what she did and, with a quiver of her lips, she cupped her mouth and began to sob.

It seemed like he would always break someone's heart. Eric's twisted expression crumpled at the sight of his mother, compelling him to reach for her. "I'm sorry, mom," he whispered and held her tight in his arms. "I'm so sorry."

Her tears seeped through his jacket as she continued to sob. Everywhere in the castle she found memories of the Broflovski family. No stone went untouched with their presence. And now that they were no longer there to grace Kupa Keep's summers did the loss feel more acute than ever. Her beloved son finally realized Kyle's place in his life and now it was too late to move forward with it.

She couldn't understand - he was right. But she could feel the next best thing in her life suffering from heartbreak and she liked to believe that was enough.

 _You should do something nice for your mom,_ Eric could practically hear Kyle's displeasure deep within him.  _I only have to deal with your shit for a few months every year - your mom does it 24/7!_

"I… um… heard from Butters that you and Lord Mackey wanted to start my season," Eric mumbled as soon as his mother's sobbing subsided. "I guess if it makes you feel better…" It would be all seven hells freezing over for him to participate in a courtship. The thought of hundreds of princesses and princes throughout Zaron trying to compete for his hand made him a bit ill, but preparing a season was engrossing busywork for the parents. Maybe that was what his mother needed to forget about the Broflovski's and God knows how much work he might actually get done without her or Mackey breathing down his neck about his 'obsession'.

"Oh, sweetie," she whispered, taking his face between her hands with a watery smile. She delicately soothed the sting mark on his cheek. "Thank you. I swear you'll have the best season in the kingdom! Who knows, maybe you can find someone new in the process. That's what you wanted before, remember?"

"Yeah," he croaked when she pulled away. Showing off to swooning maidens and asskissing twinks had been an appealing venture once upon a time, but now he was a different person.

He didn't want someone new. He wanted _Kyle_. 

* * *

Ike spent most of his days in the Library doodling away at something or another. Eric usually visited, but had long since abandoned his plans to get Ike to talk directly. Frankly there were other mediums of speaking that Ike's therapist or his mother had never even considered.

"Well hello there, little Canadian Jew," the human prince greeted and slipped into a seat across from the five year old. Ike said nothing as usual and he kept furiously scribbling to drive out his frustrations of the day. After two silent months, Eric learned so much from the young boy that he didn't need words to begin a dialogue.

All he had to do was offer him parchment and chalk.

The first picture Ike offered him was a crudely drawn image of Stan on the ground from an accident during his physical therapy this morning. Eric had laughed at Stan's misfortune despite himself, but it worked in the ranger's favor. Stan was so determined, he got his bearings back enough to whack the prince upside the head with his walking stick.

Eric rubbed the bump in his head ruefully. "Yeah, yeah. Very funny, brat. You know…" he leaned forward. "You're going to have to tell me eventually. Don't you want to see your brother again?"

The chalk in Ike's hand stopped. There was such a hopeless look in his dark eyes that Eric had to offer him a sympathetic frown. Ike looked down at his drawing, then back at Eric, and pulled out another picture from the pile for him.

It was Queen Liane gesturing to Kyle's tombstone.

"I don't care what she says," Eric said automatically after a beat. "I know Kyle's alive. Stan knows. Isn't that enough? And even then… don't you want to avenge the guy who killed your father?"

When Ike tried to slide away his supplies bitterly, Eric stopped him. "You don't want to remember what happened. I get that. Hell, why not just drink a memory potion and forget it completely? Let me tell you why - because you and I both know forgetting the bad shit that happens in our lives makes us pussies. If we bury it and ignore it, it's only going to grow into a monster on its own and get our asses in the end. So we remember it, learn from it, get stronger from it."

He sat back and waited while Ike glared at the table for a long moment. Then, after Eric was sure his words didn't connect, his heart lightened the moment Ike nodded and started pulling out a new sheet of parchment.

After an hour of patiently waiting, Ike sniffled and handed Eric his new set of drawings. His blue eyes narrowed at the size of the horned creature. It didn't look like any standard animal he was aware of - four legs, blood red fur and sharp horns. The mass was similar to a bear, but the horns reminded him of tusks and the way it stood indicated that it was able to take a humanoid stance.

It was in the midst of dueling Kyle, who was holding his staff up to protect Ike and Stan. His gaze lingered on the crude portrait like he was witnessing a vital clue to Kyle's abduction - or his last moments. No matter what had happened that night, Kyle went down fighting. Eric didn't think he could love him anymore for it, but he did.

One of the guards approached to lean over Eric's shoulder with a quiet whisper. "Your highness, your 'guests' have arrived."

Eric nodded and got up from his seat. "You did well, Ike. I'm really proud of you." Ike sniffed and scrubbed at his eyes. "I'm serious, kid. You're going to talk again. Just watch me."

Ike followed his exit and, in a very small voice, uttered, "Good luck."

* * *

Further down a remote village outside the main city, Eric followed his guards incognito with Stan at his heels, who had to walk much slower due to his walking stick. Their journey brought them to a quaint dilapidated cottage on the hill where its former owners had long since died of old age, and where a so-called pirate captain and his salty dogs impatiently waited in the kitchen at a rickety wooden table. Eric wrinkled his nose at the dust and cobwebs, but paid little attention to anything else.

Captain Donovan sat at the head of the rectangular table and smirked when Eric took the other end. He looked much more worse for wear, but Eric wasn't surprised. His populace didn't take too kindly offering the cleaner kind of jobs to swashbuckling pirates. "Didn' want to invite us to the castle, yer royalship? I suppose we ain't good company fer the other trumped up waistcoats in yer fancy halls."

"The only thing you're good for is stinking up a tavern and information," Eric said sharply and pulled back his hood. "That's why I'm offering you a shit ton of gold for your services. My sources say you're still a few thousand gold short of obtaining a new ship, Clyde. Fortunately for you, I have the answer to all of your prayers."

Tweek hovered behind Clyde and twitched nervously at the circles under the prince's eyes. "W-word from your subjects is you're obsessed with bringing Prince Kyle back from the dead!"

"And your sources are wrong as usual," Eric quipped. "Kyle isn't dead. I'm searching for him."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Stan leaned heavily on his cane to whisper into Eric's ear. "Are you sure we can trust  _pirates_ , your highness?"

Craig quickly piped up from the shadows, having the sensitive hearing to catch the ranger's suspicions. "It's not like we can trust you either, ranger. We're not welcome in this kingdom. What's stopping you from swarming this entire place with guards to see us hang?"

"It's a parley," Clyde reminded Craig with a lazy grin. "What's on the table here is both parties have something the other needs. I don't see why we can't have a wee temporary alliance." He gestured to Eric. "If it's all the same to ye, I've no plans of stayin' in yer lovely kingdom ferever. As soon as I get me ship, I'll be outta yer hair an' maybe you'll get yer lad. Win-win, right?"

Eric snorted and tossed a bag across the table. Clyde's eyes widened hungrily at the gold that spilled out.

"Money talks. Start talking, Captain." He pulled out Ike's drawing and slid it over. "This was the beast that slaughtered a king. I want to know if you've heard of this creature before."

Tweek flipped out at the childish drawing. "Ack! So s-scary! I don't wanna see it!"

"It's just a picture," Token said calmly before frowning at it. "A really shitty representation of it, don't you think? You can't tell me this is the best your castle painter can do."

"Give a rest, asshole," Eric snapped. "The only one who got a good look at it was a five year old kid. You telling me you can't glean shit from a child's drawing? Some pirates you are."

Clyde rolled his eyes and examined the parchment. "Settle down, yer royalship. I can read it just fine. Unless…" he tilted his head at the drawing, which encouraged the other salty dogs to lean forward and see for themselves. "It looks like what that village idiot was tripin' about a few weeks ago, don't ye think lads?"

"You mean the one who was giving away those wanted posters?" Token wondered in disbelief. "I don't think he's a credible source for this, Captain."

Eric raised an eyebrow. "Village idiot?"

"Yeah, he said we were all in danger from some beast that was half-bear, half-pigman," Craig droned in thought.

Token shook his head. "No, no. It was half-pig, half-bearman."

"You're both wrong," a slack voice said from the lone window. They all turned and found a disheveled middle-aged man holding up a wanted poster for them to see. "It's… Manbearpig!"

There was an awkward silence between the young men and the village idiot, one which Eric could have sworn he recognized once upon a time. "Weren't you that guy who was the assistant to the last mayor of this village?" he demanded.

"Yes…" the man lisped out. "Behold! I am Al Gore! Former Vice-Mayor of this village! And we are dealing with a very dangerous problem, your highness! Manbearpig was definitely the one who attacked the elven caravan - I'm super cereal!"

The two pictures didn't even look alike. With a snort, Eric turned back to Clyde. "Is there any other information you have that  _isn't_  ass-retarded?" he asked, ignoring the mouth breather by the window. "Make this gold worth my time, Captain, or the deal's off."

"Did you know Manbearpig has been involved in over thirty-two vegetable robberies the past year?"

Stan pinched his nose. Eric snapped his head at the guards. "Get this clown out of here!"

"Yes, your highness!"

As former Vice-Mayor Al Gore was quickly escorted off the premise, Eric reached for his gold. "Well, I see my time here has been sufficiently wasted. Thanks for your -" He jumped when Craig threw a knife at the table, embedding it into the wood just inches from Eric's fingers. Stan and the guards quickly drew their swords.

Clyde dramatically sighed and raised his palms up in surrender. "We understand that yer quite pressed fer time to save yer sweetheart, but I never said we were done. Keep feedin' us the gold an' I'll be sure ye get yer answers in due time."

Craig's knife instantly exploded into flames with a swish of Eric's fingers. "You think I was born yesterday?" Eric purred dangerously. "This isn't a charity, Captain, and it sure as hell ain't a down payment. You give me something, or we walk. Simple as that."

"We already know we can't haggle you, Eric. That's why we didn't come here without some insurance," Token said with a diplomatic grin.

Clyde nodded and folded his hands, the very picture of a businessman despite having a face full of swords pointed at him. "Our cleric is right. We might not have information now, but we know someone who might help ye out. Ever heard of the Goths?"

Eric's nose wrinkled at the name. "Those brooding freaks that made a fashion statement out of funeral garb?"

"That be the one, yer royalship," he nodded. "They fly under yer Council of Magicians' radar, so they're able to get away with shit ye wouldn't even dream of. Looking fer a good ol' reliable investigation spell? Ye go to them. They might even tell ye if yer sweetheart is still alive. How's that fer a down payment?"

"We'll see," Eric drawled before snatching the bag back. Clyde pouted. "Take me to the Goths first. If they're as good as you say they are then you shouldn't have a problem getting paid at the end of it. Don't you agree?"

"Remember when I said we should have just taken a good honest job to avoid this kind of shady shit?" Craig reminded his comrades with a dour expression. "This is why."

Clyde got up from the desk and put on his tricorne. "Don't mind my rogue. He's just sore he hadn't had a kip of breakfast today. Now… " he bowed to the prince. "You might wanna keep that cloak on. They don't take much kindly to the royalty prep club."

Eric snorted. "So they're like every other commoner in Zaron. Good to know."

* * *

It was nearly sunset by the time they reached the Goths' abode. It was just outside the mass kingdom's graveyard in some shady shack near the blackstone caves. A haunting drum beat enveloped the area the moment they stepped foot and, if Eric listened carefully enough, he could hear a tiny wail from deep within the caves that served as vocals. Spirits of the damned maybe? Which ever it was, it was seriously stressing Tweek out. He ended up clinging so hard to Craig's back, the rogue actually threatened to slit his throat for tripping them up a fourth time.

With Clyde taking the lead, he confidently strutted over to the shack. An overweight young woman with messy dark hair and pale skin was idly leaning against the frame of fluttering curtains near the entrance. She watched them in boredom as she puffed at a cigarette holder between her sharp black nails.

"What do you want?" she greeted before taking a long drag. Eric frowned disdainfully by how trashy she looked in fishnets and frayed frock. It reminded him too much of bar wenches - if not a more dead looking one.

Clyde took off his tricorne and bowed extravagantly to her. "Evening, Lady Henrietta. Ye look ravishing on this fine dreary eve."

"Fuck off, Flynn Rider," Henrietta drawled before flicking away the ashes. "And take your lame adventuring buttholes with you."

Eric was pleased to see the tick in Clyde's eyebrow as he tried to remain civil. "Now, now, yer ladyship," Clyde said through the grit in his teeth. "These men here are payin' customers. And they pay _really_ well."

Exhaling smoke through her nose, Henrietta took a moment to size up every single one of them before pounding at the frame over her head. "We've got company," she drawled loudly.

Three young men in similar dark wardrobe answered her call. They retreated out, but did nothing more than lounge nonchalantly in their usual places on the porch.

The tallest man with dark curly hair magically lit up a cigarette. "Who are these dweebs?"

"Who you calling a dweeb, you walking leper?" Eric snarled.

The one with the red-streaked hair flipped his bangs back and commented, "Settle down, tubby. You're gonna have a heart attack."

"Ay! Fuck you, twink!"

"The tall guy's Lord Michael," Clyde introduced soberly. "Red over there is Lord Pete and the youngest one Lord Firkle."

Henrietta pointed at Clyde with her cigarette holder. "Captain Sparrow here wants our business."

The captain bowed again. "Ye have the power to find and track anything in Zaron. We look to ye fer guidance… and we have the patronage you desire."

"We desire emptiness and pain," Michael drawled. "Your monarchist coin means nothing to us."

"This one has pain," the youngest goth pointed out to Eric with eager eyes. "I can sense a twisted blackness of despair and guilt."

Eric took a defensive step back. "Fuck you." They didn't know actual pain. He was sure they never experienced humiliation or regret or any of the shit he went through. They just glamorized it like some kind of demented fuck hobby.

Henrietta curiously eyed at him before returning to her smoke. "I like your thoughts, your highness. It's deep and fractured. Insanity befitting a bastard royal from a corrupted bloodline."

"I agree," Pete nodded. "That's why we're not gonna help you. Fester away in your guilt and let us watch you spiral down the dark path that kills your soul. Let it consume you."

At first, Eric was almost ready to give them what they wanted. His blue eyes stormed over with the desire to smite the entire damn shack to the ground and give them what they deserved. But almost as it appeared, the heavy turmoil was replaced with an eerie calm that made the tall goth blink with surprise.

"You know what? You're right," Eric said pleasantly. "This is a waste of our time. We'll be going now."

Stan frowned in confusion. "Your highness…"

He raised a hand up for silence. "Oh, but before we go, I just wanted to know who owns that crypt further down the road? More Goths?"

"You mean the Vamps?" Clyde corrected.

"Is that what they're called? Oh dear me," Eric tutted. "Well, I suppose we'll have to go to them for help. Come gentlemen, I bet they're way better at magic than these posers."

Michael stiffened his shoulders at the insult. "They are so not way better than us."

"They're not even real vampires!" Pete protested. "They just sit on their asses all day doing nothing but complimenting on the weather and drinking fucking clamato juice!"

Eric rubbed his chin in mild thought. "Yes well, we have things to do. We don't have time to negotiate, see. Maybe if they do really well getting what I want, I'll give them a royal commendation. And then… the entire kingdom will know how awesome the Vamps are and their influence will spread to all four corners of this land. And you? You can go back to shitting in tin pots and reading poems in the graveyard at night… if the Vamps don't acquire control of that too, of course."

Before he could even urge the rest of the party to follow, the Goths quickly bent their heads together and whispered. Michael sighed after a long moment and took another drag of his cigarette. "We change our minds."

"Oooh… yer good," Clyde complimented Eric beneath his breath.

"We do have the power of investigation," Henrietta admitted sourly. "So if you want to find out what happened to the Prince of the Drow, your best bet is with us-"

"-and not those fucking Vamps!" Pete sneered.

Stan was surprised by how much they knew. "We never told you about the Drow Prince. Are you guys oracles or something too?"

"Nah, the fucking town crier keeps ringing his bell about it for the past two months," Michael replied. "Your romantic quest is pretty gay from the sound of it. Just saying."

"Noted asshole," Eric snorted.

Reluctantly, the Goths bid them welcome into their shack and, quite frankly, from how small it looked on the outside, Eric wasn't sure if ten people could fit inside. That was why he wasn't surprised to find the inside much bigger thanks to magic.

Everything look cold and sterile with fabrics draped in a deep black Eric was sure they didn't have on the castle swatches - even for _funerals_. There were dangerous looking tomes and artifacts littering the shelves and, despite his curiosity for the dark arcane, didn't exactly feel comfortable being in this uneasy environment. The magic that thrummed reminded him of death and imprisonment - as close as it possibly could feel to the underworld he wagered. 

"Over here," Henrietta said, gesturing to a large cauldron in the middle of the room. It was sitting on a pentagram made of chalk and black candles littered around the points. There didn't seem to be any liquid in the cauldron boiling over a gray flame, but smoke continued pouring out of it anyways.

With a flutter of her fingers, the smoke wisped and curled into the air before settling. "Now, do you have anything of the elf prince we can use?"

Stan blinked. "What do you mean?"

Pete rolled his eyes. "We can't do the spell without something to tie him to."

"Do you have hair, toenail clippings, any of that sort?" Michael encouraged.

Eric and Stan looked at each other before shrugging.

Firkle licked his black lips. "Do you have  _blood?"_

Stan cringed at the idea and shook his head, but Eric seemed thoughtful of the question. With an appalled gasp, he watched the prince rifle around his cloak until he produced a tiny cork bottle with something red sloshing in it.

"What the fuck…?!" Stan exclaimed in horror.

Eric tossed the bottle to Henrietta like he just tossed her something as innocent as a snack. "Will this do?"

She raised the bottle up to examine it for a long moment. "Yup, that'll do it. We're going to need a bloodletter though."

Pete sighed before slipping through a curtained door. "I'll get him."

While they waited, Clyde and his men were eyeing Eric with suspicion - they even started adding some distance to boot. Stan could only stare at him in disbelief.

"…why?" Stan demanded.

Eric casually raised an eyebrow, unperturbed by everyone's uneasy silence. "Why what?"

Stan voiced the question everyone had in mind. "Why do you have a vial of Kyle's blood?"

"I really don't see the point of this question, Stan," he deflected quickly.

The ranger flapped his hands and nearly fell over from his unsteady stance. "I see the _entire_ point of this question! When did you ever draw blood from Kyle?!"

"You're the only one who cares, Stan!"

Craig piped up, "Actually I wanna know too."

"No one cares what you think, Craig! You're a rogue! Keeping your trap shut is part of your job!" Eric snapped.

Fortunately for the prince, Pete returned with a young man with messy brown hair and a smatter of freckles, putting the kibosh on the interrogation. The bloodletter's belt was adorned with all sorts of instruments including syringes and vials that made Stan nauseous just by looking at it.

"My name ith Thcott Malkinthin," he said in his heavy lisp. "I am the bloodletter."

Eric couldn't help himself. "Well hello, Thcott Malkinthin," he teased. It was worth the elbow Stan gave him to the ribs.

"Scott Malkinson has the power of diabetes," Michael shrugged. "It made sense at the time."

"Kyle had diabetes too," Stan said fondly to the boy.

Eric scoffed. "But it wasn't bad enough to give him a lithp- ow!" He cowered when Stan reined his fist back again. "Quit it, butthole!" Absolutely no respect for royals these days. Apparently, Stan decided he was going to take Kyle's place and beat the shit out of him when he toed out of line. 

When Scott opened the vial Henrietta offered him and sniffed it, Eric and the rest of them cringed. "AB Negative," Scott said at last through his tongue. "Very rare blood type."

"You can tell just by _sniffing_ it?" Stan asked curiously.

"I have to. Ith's not enough," Scott replied. "The thample ith too little to uthe."

"Hmm… looks like you're shit out of luck," Pete shrugged. "Unless anybody here has AB Negative they're willing to add?"

Clyde and his boys instantly backed up near the entrance in alarm. "Hell no. I like Kyle, but I don't like him that much," the Captain snorted.

Scott started sniffing the air. "One of you ith AB Negative." He moved closer to Stan before rounding over to Eric. The prince cringed and leaned back before the little fucker tried to french him or something with that nasty ass tongue. "You're AB Negative. You can fill the reth of it."

"Hold on," Stan interrupted and grabbed Eric's shoulder. "I don't think this is a very good idea."

But Eric was already taking off his jacket and rolling his sleeve up. "You pussing out already, Marshwalker? I thought you were willing to go to the ends of Zaron to find Kyle?"

"I agree with Stan," piped Token nervously. "This doesn't seem like magic the gods would let us get away with so easily."

Tweak started to twitch violently. "Ack! D-diabolo! Blood magic! We'll be smited! Smited, I say!"

"And we really don't care about your conformist stance on magic," Michael said blandly. "Either pay the toll or get the fuck out. You're already impeding on our death sonnets hour."

"So edgy," Eric taunted. Despite Stan and Token's hesitation, he had no problem taking the knife from his belt and running the sharp point across his palm.

Tweek squeaked at the sight of blood and ran out the door. "I c-can't handle this! I'm gonna be sick!"

Once Scott tipped Kyle's blood into the cauldron, Eric quickly followed and squeezed his hand tight. He flexed drop after drop into the smoking pot, watching the cauldron hiss and cackle at the offering. Henrietta flicked a bit of ash away from her cigarette before peering into it.

"I think that's enough," she replied, motioning for Eric to stop. While Token moved to heal Eric's cut, Henrietta waved insistently at the smoke, which was slowly glowing blood red. "Hmm…" she peered again, this time with an irritated frown.

"What?" Stan asked.

"Looks like a connection issue," Firkle said, scuffing at the chalk on the floor with the tip of his boot.

Irritated, Eric decided the proper way to fix it was to kick it hard. The cauldron bounced against the fire, causing the smoke to hiss angrily at the abuse.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Knock it off, your highness!"

"This thing's got shitty reception," Eric merely answered before giving it another good kick up its pewter ass.

Scott desperately grabbed the cauldron before the prince tried to attack it again. "Pleath be careful! Thith cauldronth been in my family for over ten generationth!"

"Well no wonder ith fucking thit, Thcott!" Eric taunted before he spat into the cauldron. "Ever heard of an upgrade?"

With an exasperated sigh, Stan pinched his nose. "Our  _hero_  in this quest, ladies and gentlemen…"

Eric's spit seemed to have done its job, because it suddenly exploded its contents upwards in a powerful green smoke. Everyone stumbled back in alarm as the smoke started to solidify and twist into shape.

"That'll do pig," Pete said solemnly. "That'll do."

Eric was _really_ getting fed up with all the fat jokes. In response, he kicked the cauldron again, causing Scott to whine at the treatment.

He stopped his antics the moment the smoke revealed a silhouette of Kyle, whose wrists were locked behind his back and every bit imprisoned. His heart literally leaped from his chest. Kyle was alive. He was held captive, but he was-

His insides turned cold when the leftover smoke turned into a great beast that devoured Kyle's silhouette whole. Then after a long moment, the smoke solidified again into a familiar shape.

"A deer?" Clyde tilted his head at the shape.

"A stag," Stan corrected as the horned animal reared back and disappeared. The green light of the cauldron simmered away, returning to its harmless billowy white state.

Henrietta waved her hands over it. "This is very foul magic," she reassessed before taking a drag. Then she tilted her head curiously at Eric. "So, how long were you planning on keeping this whole _I'm a good fiancé_ shit?"

Eric blinked. "What?"

"The magic that 'has' your elf prince has got your name all over it," Pete clarified, flipping his bangs again. "That's pretty diabolical."

The prince narrowed his eyes at them. Were they seriously considering that he…

Stan shook his head. "No… that's impossible. He was back in Kupa Keep the entire time! I saw him there after the attack!"

"He's a prince," Craig added. "He's also one of the most powerful magic users in the kingdom. It wouldn't be hard for him to fly after the Drow travelers, gut them, and then come back like nothing happened."

"Is this a fucking joke?!" Eric demanded furiously. He could feel all of their eyes on him and most were suspicious already. "I didn't attack that caravan!" he snarled once it was pretty fucking obvious no one was going to believe him. "Are you fucking serious?!"

"The blood that went into this cauldron said it was your magic that attacked the elf caravan," Michael said calmly in-between drags. "So unless you've got kin out there trying to frame you, you might want to cut your losses now and pretend this never happened."

Firkle's eyes gleamed. "And you might have to kill the other witnesses."

Eric kicked the cauldron again. "You thought I actually killed the king? Killed _Kyle?!_  Okay, seriously you guys, you're starting to piss me off! I'm not going to be framed for something I didn't actually do! I-" Then it hit him hard.

The only logical reason (aside from the incriminating obvious), made Eric cup his eyes in disbelief. "Fuck…" he groaned. "It's Scott, isn't it?"

"I didn't do anything!" Scott squeaked.

Token frowned. "I think he means Scott Tenorman." When Clyde tilted his head quizzically, he elaborated. "The story goes he was permanently ousted from his own homeland for trying to wage war on Kupa Keep. Queen Liane and the former Queen of the Drow put an end to his warfare and he was never seen again."

"That's pretty coincidental, don't you think?" Craig drawled. "We find out that his highness keeps a vial of blood on Prince Kyle and now he has a banished half-brother who can take the blame for this."

Eric grabbed him by the scruff of his coat and easily lifted him up. "Craig, I'm getting really fed up with your devil's advocate shit!" he snarled and shook the nonchalant rogue for good measure. "This is EXACTLY what Scott would want to happen! And I'm not gonna sit my ass down and let him steal Kyle AND my throne! I'm going to deal with him if it's the last thing I do!"

"I suppose manipulation and lies runs deep in the Tenorman line after all," Clyde snorted, folding his arms. "Fortunately for ye, yer royalship, I don't really care to know the truth. I got what ye wanted and that was answers. And now I'll take me gold."

He dropped Craig hard and tossed the bag at him. "Yeah, get your sorry asses out of here! Useless pieces of shit!"

Everyone quickly scattered the moment Eric twisted his way out of the black curtains and emerged into the cool air of the summer night. Stan hobbled after him, only to be stopped by Token's grip.

"This really doesn't look good for Eric," he told Stan firmly. "No one has seen Scott in over ten years. The odds of him coming back and attacking Kyle's caravan? That's really unlikely. And we both know Eric and Kyle didn't part on good terms."

The thought made Stan sick. "I can't… I can't accept the idea, your highness. I don't think his highness would ever be capable of doing that." Kyle  _loved_  Eric and he knew the feeling was mutual, if not begrudgingly so. There was no way Eric would go that far out of wounded pride. Still, there was a lingering shadow of doubt there. He wasn't Butters - he didn't feel as loyal to Eric as he was to Kyle - and it wasn't like Eric was the model prince charming to start with. He was vindictive, rude, and downright manipulative at times. In a more traditional story, he would be playing the part of the _villain_ , not the hero.

And Kyle's safety always came first before anything else. If Eric really did plot something, and maybe it was just a fuck up he didn't expect and he was now trying to cover his tracks…

When Token departed with Clyde's group, Stan slowly made his way over. He found Eric further down the hill just sitting there in the grass with his head in his hands beneath the backdrop of stars. A thrum of guilt and uncertainty started to eat at the ranger. Eric certainly did look the part of a bereaved lover, but he was known to be quite the actor if he really needed to.

Stan just wasn't so sure his childhood friend would ever do such a thing. But trust was a very fickle thing - especially when it came to Eric Cartman.

So perhaps that was the question Stan had to come to terms with for Kyle's sake. Was Eric the hero or the villain?


	12. The Lion's Share

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day after day, all the prince ever does is practice, practice, practice.

From what Kyle managed to get out of Sir Slave the last few nights was a question of heritage. The Tenormans were once the rightful rulers of Kupa Keep, but a slight moment of infidelity from the king had produced a bastard child - one which exacted his own revenge by overthrowing Prince Scott and taking his place in line for the throne.

Now Scott Tenorman wanted pay back the favor by dragging Kyle kicking and screaming into this spiral of blood vengeance. Unfortunately for Scott, Kyle didn't feel justified the slightest to turn against Eric and give him what he wanted.

Eric was an asshole, but he wasn't a tool like Scott. Kyle had seen Eric's potential to be a good (maybe even _great)_ ruler and, according to Kupa Keep's law, only the most powerful wizard was to rule. Eric rightfully trumped his brother in combat and won the throne. He also had a pretty good idea that putting Scott back in that seat of power again would just send Kupa Keep into a darker direction than Eric could ever do.

Also, the fucker KIDNAPPED him and cursed him into a stag every day. So yeah, any kind of sympathy on his part was fucking dashed the moment he made Kyle a permanent guest in this shitty abode.

All Kyle had during the days were his thoughts. As a stag, he was extremely inelegant - he wasn't even sure if he could properly walk let alone navigate the thick forest without breaking his thin legs. So here he was wading in the lake every day, head down low and just wishing for the moon to rise so he could turn into himself again. During those nights when Scott wasn't around to bug him, Kyle once attempted to venture out on his own to see how far he could go without getting lost.

He didn't have to go far. The moment he stepped foot past the initial mark of trees, he somehow ended up on the other side of the lake again. Scott made it absolutely sure that no one can find him while he was an elf by erecting a diverting barrier over the estate - one that was powered by the night before it weakened with the rise of the sun. 

Perhaps he could try venturing on his own as a stag when the barrier was at its weakest, but what if Scott was right about there being hunters during the day? It wasn't like a slack-jawed hunter could tell that he was a prince magically in disguise. With his options horribly shortened, Kyle continued pacing slowly to get used to his legs. There had to be another way out of this.

"Kyle!" A strange hyper pitched voice called out to him.

Kyle raised his head and looked around, but couldn't find anyone save for a few animals skittering in the trees. He lowered his head again and shook at his antlers irritably. All of this solitude was no doubt making him hear things.

"Prince Kyle!" That same voice repeated. "You must find your way out of this forest or you will surely die."

"Who's talking to me?" Kyle demanded and looked around. "I can't find you!"

"Over here!"

Near the edge of the lake were a few lily pads adorning the shallow end. A regal looking frog with a crown and scepter was sitting upon one like he damn well belonged there. Kyle tilted his head so far to the side in confusion he found himself looking at it horizontally. It was a frog… dressed up like royal. 

Was he high or something?

"Greetings," the frog said as Kyle curiously walked over. "I am called the Frog King."

"I'm not kissing you, if that's what you're looking for," Kyle said sarcastically. "And even if I wanted to, I think you need a princess to help you with that." And, of course,  _he_  was cursed too. Who knows what the magical legal tape had on loophole clauses.

The Frog King shook his hand. "No, no. I'm not cursed human. Just a frog."

If Kyle could properly raise his eyebrow, he would have. "A frog  _king_."

"That's right."

Well, Kyle supposed he witnessed weirder things happen to him. Like when he found Stan drunk and riding a unicorn naked two summers ago. He straightened his shoulders back, looking every bit as magnificent and tantalizing for any hunter looking for a prized kill. "So what's this about dying? Are you an oracle or some kind of prophet?"

"You must learn how to navigate the forest safely," the Frog King simply replied. "Otherwise, you will surely die."

"But I don't know where to start! Do I look like I was born a deer?" Kyle exclaimed.

There was a pause. "Well, right now you do." Kyle glared at him. "Do not worry, Prince Kyle. You will not be alone in this journey. Two other animals will give you aid. The Sparrow Prince will teach you to jump and gallop through the trees and the Catatafish will help you dive to safer depths."

Kyle looked around. "So where are they?" But when he looked back, the Frog King was gone.

"RAAAAGH!" He shook his antlers in frustration again and, when he was done with his mini temper tantrum, he curled his legs under him and rested his head down onto the grass in defeat. Sometimes, when he felt the most disheartened, he could swear he could hear Eric's warm laughter within or the comfort of Eric's coat drawn over his shoulders.

 _Well that's just fucking great_ , he remembered Eric's sarcasm fondly,  _now I've gotta deal with your elvish ass in the winter too?_

He wanted to go home. He wanted to know his father was okay - that Ike was okay. He wanted to find someone,  _anyone_ , and tell them that he was alive and cursed like this.

But most of all, he wanted to see Eric again. He wanted to see him and forgive him for what happened that night. He wouldn't hold it against him anymore. That, despite truly fucking being in love with him, he would just be happy by his side, insults and all.

But he couldn't imagine Eric  _waiting_  for him. They all probably thought he was dead and Eric just simply moved on with his season. It would be that time too now that summer was in full swing.

Despite all these valid reasons, and perhaps Kyle was just desperate to hope for something, he wanted to believe that Eric was simply waiting for him to come home. No, he felt certain that Eric was doing just that.

He was done moping like a little bitch. If he wanted to leave this place, he'll have to break the spell himself. 

That was his last thought before his eyelids slowly drifted up and down, letting the warm summer sun seep into his hide like a blanket. He tried to stay awake out of habit. Despite being completely safe from poachers near the lake, he found that this animal form's baser instincts just didn't see logical reason half the time. One ear always seemed to be pointed up listening for the smallest sound of movement. Scott even joked that if Kyle just politely asked, he could conjure a doe (or a young stag, since it seemed to be his preference) to get his rocks off. 

He spat in Scott's face when he said that. It was starting to become a very fond memory.

_When he opened his eyes, he found himself lost in the Silver Meadow - the one place in the Drow he never expected to return to again. He looked at his tiny hands and found he wasn't a stag, but he wasn't a young man anymore either. Nearly tripping over his robes, Kyle found a pond not too far off and saw his five year old reflection upon the still water. Was the whole thing just a dream? For a moment, he had forgotten what he had been imprisoned for and simply bounded happily around the silver grass with a freedom he hadn't felt in so long._

_Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a heavy-set woman not too far away, wearing flattering silver robes with a gnarled tiara pinning back bright red curls that fluttered pleasantly in the breeze. She held her arms out to him and, for an quiet moment, Kyle didn't feel afraid of the stranger - not when her smile was so warm and tearful. It was like she had waited forever to see him again._

"Mom!"  _he squeaked happily, knowing her through his heart instead of his eyes. As if the moment would end, Kyle didn't care tripping over himself to frantically get to her and, for the first time in his life, felt the strong comforting embrace of his own mother's arms around him._

"Oh, my bubbe,"  _she whispered, her voice like a long forgotten song to him._  "You're going to be alright, Kyle. I'm here. I'm always going to be here." 

_Kyle nuzzled into her soft, warm chest. There were so many things he wanted to say - to ask - but he found just as much peace just simply letting her hold him the way she never had the chance to._

As the meadow faded, Kyle found himself stirring just as the sun blazed high into cool blue sky. His heart plummeted at the realization that it had simply been just a dream. Kyle lowered his head back down and allowed himself to just let his melancholy thoughts fade away before the moon started to rise along the horizon. He ached for his mother. He ached for his father and brother and Stan and everyone else.

Then he spared the rest of his ache for Eric, only for his breath to still in mid-inhale.

* * *

It was a cool summer day so the tea party Liane arranged was better off spent overlooking the gardens. One by one, dignitaries from many kingdoms arrived to accept invitations for Eric's upcoming season and all of them looked promising enough. Unlike Eric's determination to hold onto the past, Liane was his mother - and _Queen_. The affairs of the kingdom were always changing and she needed to keep moving for the sake of her son's future.

"M'kay… very good," Lord Mackey said with approval as he sat another dignitary in their assigned seat. "This looks very promising, your Majesty, m'kay. We even have a few participants from Mino'Rity."

Liane could only smile and consider that the odds of a Mino'Rity royal permanently living in these halls were probably zip to none. Eric barely handled having  _Jews_  in the kingdom for a few months at a time - a Mexican or African prince or princess just spelled trouble.

She inhaled with anticipation while Mackey brought in another dignitary to sit and grace her with. While she sipped her tea and began small talk, occasionally her blue eyes would follow the path down to the grounds where her son was constantly practicing his physical training. It was almost becoming a daily thing for him.

"May I ask what his highness is doing?" Her newest dignitary asked curiously from across the Queen.

"Thinking of someone," Liane quietly mused with a wistful smile. "And the way that it was."

Compiling everything they knew so far about the great animal, magic did little to harm it according to Jimmy. It didn't even faze itself when it tore through Jimmy's protective barrier, and therein catching the armed elves off guard. Swiftness and old school weapons seemed to be a possible strategy of killing it, which meant that prominent magical users like Eric were royally screwed unless they did something about it.

While Stan went on a slow crawl brandishing his sword on a practice dummy, Eric grabbed Kenny for some archery practice.

Out of all of them, Kenny was actually proficient at the bow and arrow because she was a chick and it was the least physical out of all of the weaponry. Eric earned himself a smack on the temple for that quip and earned another for mentioning she was so aggressive due to her time of the month.

On the plus side, using magical archery as a substitute was spot-on for Eric, though he still really didn't see the importance of proving he can use the physical equivalent. However, in a bold move, Stan implied that Eric was jackshit with the real deal - and he was looking to prove Stan wrong.

Garrison was supposed to help round up the servants to make target practice more challenging, but…

"What the fuck is this?" Eric demanded. The line before them were comprised of what looked like every ridiculous tavern drunk in the kingdom. Some were already swaying on their feet and it was barely noon. "You were supposed to round up the _servants_ , Garrison, not piece of shit drunks!"

"The servants have their day off today," he drawled back, tossing his hand up in exasperation. "It was the best we could do. Ever heard of scheduling ahead of time? We didn't expect your fucking decree to be last minute!"

Kenny sweetly gave a little wave to the man at the end of the line. "Hi, dad!"

"Hey sweetie," Lord McCormick burped out before chugging down his flask of moonshine.

"Are - we - getting - paid - for - this?" One of the hunters complained in a very mechanical drawl.

Stan's Uncle Jimbo was more cheerful of their new job than the others. "Well of course they are, Ned! This is, after all, the great country of Kupa Keep! The land of the free - and the right to hunt whatever we want to put on his highness' dinner table!"

"You're getting paid," Garrison answered shortly. With a snap of his fingers, a large wagon of barrels came down the hill bearing the words  _Ye Olde J_ _agerminz S'more-flavored Schnapps_.

The men narrowed their eyes at the obviously cheap substitute for cold hard cash.

Lord McCormick hiccuped. "Seems good to me." There was a wave of agreement rippling through the group. 

"Agreed!" Jimbo chirped and ecstatically stuck what looked like moose antlers tied to a helmet on top of his head.

Eric shot a deprecating grin at Kenny. "Wow, what suckers. Looks like you won't be able to afford a new dress for my season after all, Kenny."

She sniffed indignantly before biting her thumb at him.

"Ay!"

One of the drunkards was sober enough to be concerned that he was being put up for target practice. "This won't… _hic_ … kill us, would it?"

In response, Eric pulled out one of his arrows and waved the tip at them. The sharp point was replaced by a soft foam ball covered in bright blue paint. "Completely harmless."

Kenny huffed when she found that her own set of arrows was a bright red. "I wanted pink!"

"Stop being such a fucking girl, Kenny!" Eric snapped. She had the balls to wear a _skirt_ for this activity - he wasn't going to appease her with the color that she wanted now.

While Butters helped them put on their blindfolds, Garrison began placing numbers on the men based on weight, speed, and _sobriety_. "Okay men. All you have to do is act like the animal assigned. Dogs go woof, horses go neigh, and stupid says what."

"What?" Jimbo asked.

"Precisely," Garrison quipped. "Now let me hear your best animal noise! Go on, get moving!"

Half-hearted sounds of trumpet noises and shitty whining made him sigh with disgust. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"C'mon you pussies, you can do better than that!" Garrison encouraged and really, Eric began to seriously consider making the man Captain of the Guard instead of his tutor one day. "Give me your warface! ARRRG!"

Kenny's father puked in response.

"…close enough."

Making sure Kenny and Eric were back to back and armed, Butters handed the rope that kept the blindfolds together to Garrison and joined Stan by the training dummies. Last time he got in the way, he ended up grounded for getting his smock covered in paint. "Good luck, fellas!" he said loudly and waved. "May the best archer win!"

"Yeah, Kenny, we'll even give you a ribbon of participation so you don't feel bad after I beat your ass," Eric quipped, then gasped in pain when Kenny elbowed him hard.

Garrison shook at the tiny hourglass. "On my mark! One…"

The drunkards hobbled away from each other in varying speeds. Some ended up either smacking into each other or falling over thanks to the inebriation fairy. One was so drunk, he couldn't even muster the energy to even _move_.

"Two…"

Eric fumbled a bit trying to grab an arrow and resting it against his bow. Kenny was already two steps ahead of him. She expertly tore one of the fletches off with her teeth before notching it into the string, using the rumbling of targets disturbing the earth as her guide.

"You think Eric might actually hang Kenny when she beats him again?" Butters asked as he helped Stan sit on the fence to ease his sore back.

It took Stan a half second of careful deliberation. "Probably."

Garrison pulled at the rope and flipped the hourglass. "THREE!"

Both blindfolds unraveled. For a second, Eric had a hard time with his eyes dilating to compensate the bright sunlight. Before he could even start looking for a target, Kenny had already took aim and hit Jimbo right in the ass - leaving a bright red target all over his pants.

Jimbo dramatically fell over. "I'm hit, Ned! Go on without me!"

"It's - the - Battle - of - Nam - all - over - again," Ned replied mechanically before dodging Eric's arrow by jumping into a bush. "Oh - shit."

"For Christ sakes, you're not dead, Jimbo!" Garrison shouted once he realized Eric was literally taking advantage of the man's prone form to shoot arrows at him instead. "Pick your fat ass up and keep running around until time runs out!"

Kenny danced beautifully around the hill and sniped out each and every man she had her sights on regardless of her frilly skirt. Eric gritted his teeth and started scoping out the higher numbered men but, realizing they were way too fast for his accuracy, cleverly started pounding arrows at the slower men for the sake of quantity over quality. Stan shook his head at Eric's lack of conviction over the exercise, driving a wedge of doubt further inside of him. Was Eric even caring about the point of this whole thing? Maybe Craig was right. 

Then the thought made his blood boil. If Eric really was responsible and did this just to cover his ass… they may have a serious problem on their hands. He wasn't going to sit down like an invalid and pander to Eric's schemes anymore. Eventually he was going to get answers - even at the cost of risking the now tentative alliance between Kupa Keep and the Drow.

Jimmy hobbled over, readily abandoning his lute playing by the Queen's lanai to witness all the fuss was going on up close. "Your heart is in t-t-turmoil, R-Ranger Marshwalker," he realized with curiosity. "Perhaps m-m-more so than us-usual."

Stan's lips thinned, refusing to answer in fear of incriminating Eric in front of Butters.

Eventually, Kenny seemed determined to single her father out for more than just the sake of the game. Lord McCormick swore and howled each time her arrows got him on the ass, legs, and back. "Knock it off, Kenny!" he shouted and doubled over when she got him perfectly between the legs.

She giggled manically, which was enough to get her father sprinting off the grounds… and towards the lanai where tea party was being held.

Eric couldn't help but participate in ruining his mother's event. Hashing out a temporary alliance with Kenny, they started shooting a myriad of blue and red arrows over the stone lanai.

"Twenty pieces of gold says you can't hit your dad in the crotch again!" Eric bet loudly.

"You're on!" she muffled into her silk scarf.

Every dignitary shrieked and dodged both the paint soaked man and incoming arrows, causing tables to be flipped and disturbed while food toppled onto the marble floor. Liane sighed when lukewarm tea stained her lap. "Lord McCormick," she said evenly when he passed by and knocked Mackey clear over.

"AFTERNOON YOUR MAJESTY!" he shouted over his shoulder before scaling the stone railing. She could hear his painful whine and the sickening sound of him hitting the grass when Kenny managed to shoot him right in the groin again. Well, there went Eric's twenty gold pieces.

Garrison checked the hourglass with a bored glaze in his eyes. "Ten seconds!"

Down to one arrow, Eric simply decided to use it like a baton to hit the men with. Swearing under her breath, Kenny eventually followed his example seeing as there was no way she could win if he kept cheating like this.

"Oh gods, this is a clusterfuck," Stan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose once Eric and Kenny just started beating every man in sight with their arrows like toddlers. "STOP CHEATING!"

"Three, two, one… _time!"_ Garrison shouted and grabbed Eric's arrow for good measure before he could start racking up more points behind his back. "I want all targets back in line!" He meticulously tallied the exhausted (and perhaps now sober) gentlemen. One by one they shuffled over to the barrels for some delicious schnapps as a job well done.

Garrison deemed Kenny the winner before stalking off for some well deserved schnapps himself. Despite Eric beating her by a considerable number of points, he did little but cheat his way into it.

"The way I've seen you snipe Eric, you'd have a better chance hitting something when it's stationary," Stan commented before the prince could put up a fuss. "Why the hell did you fuck this up? This isn't a game. We can't risk putting you in danger if you're not competent enough to fight the great animal."

Red from humiliation, Eric pointed the tip of his bow at Stan's chest. "You trying to get me kicked off my own rescue mission, Marshwalker? Because that's totally a douchebag move. Seriously."

"If you want to successfully save Kyle, I might just have to!" Stan growled. "Kenny's a way better archer than you! Don't you give a shit about this whole thing? You cheated the entire time!"

"You're the one to talk! You can't even walk to the shitter without a cane!" Eric snapped.

Butters patted them both on the shoulders to try and use a bit of diplomacy cooling his friends' heads. "Now, now, we all want to save Prince Kyle - wait what? Prince Kyle's alive?"

"Is this why we've been practicing our asses off for the past three weeks?" Kenny demanded with a frown. "I thought we were trying to take on a mythical beast - not doing a search and rescue mission for a ghost."

"Kyle's not dead!" Eric retorted at her. "And stop looking at me like I've gone insane! Tell them, Stan!"

"I don't know," Stan narrowed his eyes coldly. "Is he?"

Eric flinched hard, his thoughts returning back to that fucking shack and the wild accusations that came with it. He had thought Stan was smarter than Craig's stupid ass convictions, but he was wrong. Dead wrong.

"You better watch your fucking mouth, Marshwalker," he hissed. "For all the shit we went through together, you really believe I was the one who killed the king? Killed _Kyle?"_

Jimmy's jaw dropped. "W-w-what?"

Kenny looked between them in pure confusion. "What's he talking about?"

Stan wasn't deterred anymore now that the cat was out of the bag. He needed to know. "Why did you have Kyle's blood?" he demanded. "That's pretty damning evidence right there! He never said anything about it and out of the blue, you procure the very thing you needed for the blood spell-"

"-what's this about a blood spell?!" Butters squeaked.

"I've always had it, retard!" Eric screamed angrily. "It was part of that fucking covenant!"

Stan blinked. "Wait… what?"

Eric threw down his bow hard at Stan's feet. "I didn't want to mention it!" he snapped, gripping the sides of his hair. "It was the only thing that magically kept us together and I wasted it to find him!" That single vial was what had made sure Eric knew when Kyle strayed - and vice versa when Kyle realized he had kissed Patty Nelson. 

Desperate as he was to do whatever it took to locate and find Kyle, he knew that the covenant could be used to his advantage. And when Friar Maxi mentioned that the covenant was fueled on their blood, one wholly given to the church when they were young as protection to God, Eric knew the risks of his actions when he stole Kyle's share of the vow. The fact that he used the last remnant of their engagement continued to haunt him the moment he handed it over to those unholy goths and the severance of the only link he had with Kyle.

"I stole it from the church…" he admitted quietly. "I desecrated the purity of our engagement - because I knew it would be needed to find Kyle."

"Eric!" Butters exclaimed in horror. "You're not supposed to break the covenant like that! You-you committed sacrilege!"

"N-not just sac-sa-sacril… sacrilege, but d-damage," Jimmy stuttered out with worry. "Only a p-p-priest can se-sever the coven-covenant without tainting b-both par-parties." Eric shrugged off Jimmy's invasive attempt to discern his state of mind with that wily elven magic. He didn't need another reason for people to dub him insane.

Kenny bounced angrily on her heels, growing sick of them not answering the most important question. "C'mon! When did you use blood magic? And why didn't you take me along?!"

Stan opened his mouth, but no words came out. Eric was willing to risk the wrath of his church and his own god to find Kyle… it was a good cover, that's for sure.

But the way Eric looked so disturbed with himself couldn't be fake. He literally looked tortured by what he did - and perhaps the knowledge that his half-brother might be the reason they were all suffering - Stan couldn't help but feel sorry for him regardless.

Eric's fingers sank into his hair with frustration. He avoided Jimmy's incessant complaints for him to hold still so he can check the ruined state of the covenant. He didn't need an elf to tell him that he stole from the church and consorted with tainted magic. He knew this already - accepted the risks despite it. There was no digging himself out of this if word spread, but he couldn't backtrack now. Not like this. Not when they were so close to finding Kyle. He took a deep breath and averted his eyes.

"You were the only one in this goddamned kingdom that was on my side with this," he stressed to Stan. "You can call me whatever the fuck you want, you can _believe_ whatever the fuck you want, but don't you dare…" Stan flinched at the murderous look in Eric's eyes. "Don't you fucking _dare_ accuse me of killing King Gerald! Don't you fucking dare accuse me of hurting Kyle! Do you hear me?! I'll fuck you up, I swear…! I swear to God, I will…"

Stan swallowed down the chill up his spine when Eric turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving Kenny and Butters to flounder and demand what had just happened from him instead.

Eventually the ranger somehow found his voice and began their tale with Captain Donovan and the Goths.

* * *

Blowing off steam through the tiny wooden area of the courtyard, Eric punched one of the tree trunks and enjoyed the pain shooting up his arm. "Am I the only one in this fucking kingdom with an ounce of sense around here?!" he shouted to the canopy. "How can I actually be accused of hurting the very people I actually gave a shit about?!"

 _"Give Stan a break,"_ a familiar voice drifted in the breeze. _"You know how crazy you look these days?"_

Retreating from a tree was Kyle, wearing that displeased frown as always. Eric could only stand bewildered, unable to comprehend the young man standing before him. With a roll of his eyes, Kyle approached him and started fixing the collar of his cape.

 _"See? Like a fucking slob,"_ he snorted fondly and started combing back his brown bangs.

Eric grabbed Kyle's wrists. "You're alive," he croaked. "I fucking knew it! No one would believe me, Kyle!"

Twisting their fingers together, Kyle leaned forward and pressed his lips against Eric's. _"But I'm not really here,"_ he said as a matter-of-factly. _"You just took a conk to the head."_ He rolled his eyes again. _"Like usual."_

"What?"

Kyle shook his head and sighed. _"I can't do this alone,"_ he admitted. _"Not without you. So I guess I'm fucking screwed."_

"Just hang on," Eric promised desperately before pulling him close. "Don't give up on me now! Please!" Some invisible force kept nudging at his temple. He swatted at the air. "Knock it off, asshole!"

Watching Eric mumble for Kyle while unconscious was both tragic and pathetic. With his comrades surrounding the fallen prince, Stan kept nudging at the Eric's head with his walking stick until he stirred and grabbed it.

"Cut into my private time, will you?" Eric growled in confusion. "I'll snap this fucking cane in half."

Kenny took over most of his vision while Butters was on the other side healing the cut on his forehead. "You walked into the invisible tree," she snickered. "I knew that shit would pay off one day."

"That fucking thing we planted like a trillion years ago actually grew?!" Eric tried to sit up so Butters helped him. The tree had been meant for Kyle to walk into all those years ago but they forgot where they planted the sprout. It fucking figured that it would bite his own ass one of these days. 

This was way too much of a coincidence to brush off. "Kyle's alive," he repeated with absolute certainty. "I felt him call me."

"You sure that's not just your psychosis kicking in after breaking the covenant?" Kenny joked. She raised her hands up in surrender when he growled. "Okay, okay. I believe you, your highness. Kyle's alive. Happy now?"

Eric glared at her suspiciously. "Don't fucking play around, Kenny! I'm not in the mood."

"I'm serious!" she snorted. "Stan told us everything that happened. There's no way you could have attacked the caravan. You were with us the whole time bitching and moaning that you were a dickhead. That's pretty much proof enough."

Stan took in a long sigh and leaned against his cane with a tired slant. "I know they wouldn't lie to me about it. I can't imagine what they'd gain from protecting your ass."

"But how can you believe them so easily?" Eric demanded. "They're loyal to the crown."

Butters sheepishly played with his fingers. "Oh, well I can't lie, Eric, even if it's to save Kupa Keep. That's my vow as a paladin. I must remain truthful and pure - just like Jesus. Otherwise I get my wiener burned off and sent to an abbey!" Everyone cringed. "And I really don't want my wiener burned off if it's all the same to you."

"A-and, Kenny can't lie," Jimmy supplied helpfully. "I've r-read her he-he-hea… I've read her h-h-he-heart." 

Eric didn't seem so convinced by the sudden change of heart. Stan sighed again. "Look, if you really think this Scott Tenorman is behind the attack and Kyle's abduction, we're wasting time and energy pointing fingers at each other. You're the only one who's actually doing something about the attack and I can't be filled with doubt. And if Kyle were here…" he looked away. "He'd believe you. Well, maybe reluctantly, but he never lost faith in you before. So neither will I."

Mildly embarrassed - and even humbled - by Stan's conviction in his words, he couldn't do much than utter, "I… thanks. I guess."

"And I believe you too, your highness!" Butters said brightly. "You should never ignore the call of true love! And- and I'd never want to be a negative-nancy when you're trying to do the right thing! So I'm at your service to find Kyle too!"

Kenny smirked and gave him a two fingered salute. "Count me in!"

"Y-you should've re-recruited me sooner!" Jimmy piped up. "Anything to f-fi-find Prince K-Kyle."

Eric's next words were hesitant. He never expected gaining genuine allies for this futile quest. For the past couple of months, he had been forced to settle with doing this all on his own with no one to believe or trust him. "…really?"

"Of course. We're… friends." Stan answered with a nod. "And friends stick together."

"Wow… that's a really fucking gay answer," Eric drawled, destroying the moment.

"You're gay!" Stan snapped. Kenny laughed into her scarf.

Having enough of this mushy shit for one day, Eric dusted himself off and stood up with a grin. "Then I guess Operation Kosher is finally a go!"

"God, Kyle is going to kill you when he hears that," Kenny said over her shoulder on their way back to the castle.

Not 'if', she said. _'When'_. For the first time in weeks, Eric was actually able to muster a real, relieved smile. Finally things were looking up.

 _You're going to be alright, Kyle._ Eric thought. _We're here. We're always going to be here._

* * *

Kyle's stilled breath made him lift his head up in concern. The covenant that once beat alongside his heart began to fade until it felt like it wasn't even there to start with. Panic rose up within him as he struggled to get up on his four legs. Did… did something happen to Eric?

He stumbled a bit, mostly due to his numb legs than distress, and he made it to the lake in just the nick of time before the moonlight started to touch the water.

Bathed in moonlight and water, he transformed back into an elf again. If Eric was in trouble enough that it warranted the dissolution of the covenant, he needed to get out of here quickly. There was no time to play the waiting game - he would have to force his way out. Kissing Sir Slave's ass every night for answers just didn't cut it anymore.

Without a moment to spare, he quickly hid in the nearby shrubbery to wait for Sir Slave to arrive with dinner. With a sharpened stone in hand, Kyle quickly came up from behind and pressed the tip against the older man's throat.

Sir Slave dropped the tray of food and raised his hands up in surrender. "Jesthus Christhe!" he moaned in appreciation.

"I'm afraid I won't entertain your gossip tonight, Sir Slave. You're going to tell me how to break the spell," Kyle threatened and pressed the stone tighter against his throat. "Tell me what I need to do or Scott will find you face down in that lake!"

The man pursed his lips. "You don't have to be so rude, sweetie. I'd be more than happy to answer, okay?"

Kyle paused in surprise. He pulled away and sheepishly pocketed the stone. "…sorry."

"That's okay," Sir Slave chirped before sitting primly on the rotting half wall. "You may not like the answer though, sweetie. Lord Tenorman made himself absolutely sure you wouldn't be able to break it on your own. It's kind of romantic, actually."

Weary, Kyle sat opposite of him. "I can't be a stag forever," he reasoned. "And there's no way I'm going to hand my kingdom over to that fucktard. He's gotta already know that by now."

Sir Slave tapped his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I don't think he's very bothered by it. That man has so many plans it drives my silly head crazy just thinking about it! He's probably got a plan L or M stashed around just for this occasion."

Kyle groaned. "He's starting to sound like Eric every day." Which wouldn't be surprising seeing as, well, they were actual half-brothers.

"I heard that," a familiar voice growled. The ruined stone path turned whole and new while the rest of the woods was bathed in magical sunlight. Scott appeared from behind a tree wearing a flattering suit and jeweled cape. "Has Stockholm Syndrome finally kick in yet, my dear prince?"

"Try tomorrow," Kyle drawled and folded his arms. A thought occurred to him. "Are you even _attracted_ to men?"

Sir Slave giggled and hid behind his hand. "He's totally not," he said in an obvious stage whisper. "Like, you can tell too, right? The straight-compass is like in full force just looking at him."

"Totally," he agreed with a sly grin.

Scott wasn't seemed fazed by their chatting like usual. "I can learn. You're already halfway there looking as lovely as a wallflower, Kyle."

Kyle's smirk twisted into a snarl. "Restore my magic and I'll show you a fucking wallflower."

The illusion scattered, leaving them in the murky night. "Eventually you're going to have to say yes," Scott spat. "It must be boring as hell prancing around the lake all day. I hope you know there hasn't been a search party in weeks. No one thinks you're alive. Your best bet is to just give in and spare us all the headache."

"Eventually, I'll find a way to break the spell," Kyle promised. "And when I do, you can be sure that you'll pay for every minute you kept me prisoner."

"Ooooh," Scott mock-shivered. "Feisty. I think I'm starting to see why Liane wanted Eric to marry you. If he doesn't get things done, you will."

Kyle let the determination in his eyes spell it out for him.

Scott flicked away the remnants of the illusion from his cape and, just before he walked away, gave Kyle exactly what he wanted to hear. "Did you feel the covenant break, Kyle?" he smirked at the stillness of the prince's shoulders. "There's been no word of death. That means Eric must have broken the covenant on his own. Did you know the Queen is preparing for his season of courtship? They've forgotten you, Kyle. They think you're dead."

It hurt Kyle to hear that, more than he'd ever let on. The last thing he needed was this asshole to feel smug hitting him where it hurt. Kyle masked his pain with a glare. "They've no reason to believe I'm alive," he agreed. "The kingdom comes first. Always."

"It doesn't break your heart to hear how easily Eric forgot you? I mean, it's only been a couple months," Scott continued, weaving around Kyle like some kind of predator. "That's how much you _really_ mean to him, Kyle. Let a few months pass to show the public he 'cared' and then, as soon as the leverage of time passed, jump into the fray of thirsty royals to find another warm body to sleep with. Your death? A mild inconvenience. You're just that much replaceable." 

"Fuck off."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," Scott purred. "How else can you explain the sudden loss of the covenant? He didn't die, Kyle - and that's the only option aside from the obvious. I've seen carriages from all across Zaron begin their journey to the castle. Eric's going to have a season and he can't afford having a useless engagement to tie him down. So he threw it away. He threw _you_ away. That's pretty fucking cruel, even for my standards." 

Every single word chipped at Kyle's resolve and a modicum of frustration and despair started to crack behind his once prideful eyes. Like his brother, Scott knew how to wield his words like a weapon, making Kyle feel just as vulnerable as the day Eric used his dead mother against him. 

He didn't even flinch when Scott drew close to whisper in his ear, lost as he was in that helplessness growing with each day of captivity that passed. "There are two ways to break the spell," Scott murmured. "Accept my proposal - which is so much easier by the way - or Eric makes a vow of everlasting love to you. Two simple options, but you're the smart one, Kyle. Which do you think is the most plausible now? Especially with that gaping hole in your chest." 

Kyle found himself unable to throw a barb right back at him, making Scott laugh. "Think about it, your highness. And don't worry about time. Take as long as you want to reconsider - an _eternity_ , if you wish! I'm in no rush… unlike my miserable brother. I mean wow, I never really thought of how cruel he can be, but I guess that's to be expected. The insatiable blood of a Tenorman runs through his veins after all."

Sir Slave pursed his lips in mild concern at the faraway look in Kyle's eyes before he was ordered to follow his master back to the castle.

Once they were completely gone, Kyle pressed a hand hard against his brow, his fingers trembling. "Stop it…" he hissed, doing his best to stop the tears that threatened to leak out. "You're the Prince of the Drow. A prince does not…" His words started to falter, so he translated his words into action. With a sharp howl of despair, Kyle punched the closest tree and, when the physical pain wasn't enough, he unleashed his full fury into it, uncaring that his knuckles were starting to crack and bleed from the abuse.

"Is it true, you son of a bitch?! You fucking forgot me Eric, didn't you?!" he cried out. "It was _that_ easy, was it?! Breaking the covenant?! Starting a season?!" Every word was punctuated by each punch, one for each ruined attempt to unchain his magic, another for each day that passed knowing that he can't hold firm forever. Eventually either Scott gave in to the stalemate, or he did. 

Giving in just wasn't an option. 

When he didn't have the strength to keep going, he dropped his shoulder against the bloodied tree and slid down the trunk, nursing his cut and bruised knuckles against his chest. Eric wasn't going to find him. The covenant was gone - he was moving on with his life. _Without him._  

It was a stupid and a completely pussy move but he couldn't help the tears that managed to escape. This wasn't a fairytale. There was no white knight on his horse to save the day - it's just a game of poker and the hand he was dealt with. 

Scott never thought of the third option. He probably wagered Kyle would be too afraid to do it and, in doing so, he severely underestimated Kyle's determination to protect the land. That was his job as prince - it was the first and last duty he would ever have.

In the morning light, Kyle chose his own option. He would bravely take his first journey into the forest and seek an end on his own terms - not someone else's. Dying from a hunter was better than living like this. Scott's plan would unravel. He would never be able to acquire the Stick of Truth. This would be Kyle's last unsung stand against his captor and, in the process, he would save Zaron's future.  

At least in death, he would be _free_. 


	13. All the Courage We Require

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No fear.

Death was easy. Psyching yourself up for it? Not so much.

Most of Kyle's morning was pacing along the border of the trees occasionally shaking his horns and scratching at the ground with his hooves. At the first morning light, he had been so determined to walk pass the barrier that he ended up wimping out and faltering anyway. His animal instincts were too strong to let logic win. He couldn't face the sharp end of a crossbow to sacrifice himself even if he wanted to.

But that was the _point_ for all this procrastinating - he was supposed to do this for the good of Zaron. The problem was self-preservation. Kyle had never harbored thoughts of suicide or self-harm. Martyrdom? Sure. Eric always did like to bitch about Kyle's douchebag sense of superiority to the point of righteous persecution. He could talk the talk, but walking the walk just seemed almost insane. Compounded with the fact that he was a stag with instincts now just made the action almost impossible.

"I can do this," he muttered to himself, rearing back to the lake for a running start. "I can do this! I can!" Taking a deep breath, Kyle bounded down the path, gaining momentum and speed for an exhilarating moment. But just as the border was just a few feet away from being breached, he instinctively shot his front legs straight into the dirt and ended up sliding onto his ass to a sharp stop.

Kyle sighed and dropped his antlers down. "I can't do it!" he hissed. "Fuck!"

One of his ears suddenly perked up into the air, catching something sharp in the distance. The sound catching up to him, Kyle opened his eyes and looked around. A faint shrill voice echoed through the trees. It was desperate and out of breath.

_Help! Help! I don't want to die! I don't want to die!_

Unable to just sit around on his ass while someone was in trouble, Kyle didn't even think about breaching the barrier when he charged through it. Instinct guided his hooves, which allowed him to easily flit between the trees and bound over large obstructions like boulders and logs as he followed the sound of the screaming.

His movements slowed down into a silent crawl when he slipped in the shadows between the large shrubbery. Kyle found that the source of the distress call belonged to a big fat peacock, who ended up trapped in a man-made wooden box trap. Its cries along with trying to flap and flutter out of its prison alerted the resident hunters into the clearing.

"Take a look, Ned! It's a peacock!"

Kyle's ears perked up in recognition. The man was Uncle Jimbo who, with crossbow in hand and hunting gear askew, knelt down to take a good look at it. "We're rich! You know how much Lady Stevenson will pay for peacock feathers? Hoo-boy!"

Ned had his crossbow up and pointed at the bird. "A - peacock - dress - for - the - prince's - seasonal - ball."

"That's right, Ned! And we're giving it to her!" Jimbo said proudly. "With interest of course. Jesus almighty, I love my job! Well, enough pissin' around! Let's kill it!"

Didn't he lecture these two on over hunting years ago? Kyle rolled his eyes and, determined to put these two hunters in their place once more, brought his antlers forward and charged from out of the foliage and into the vulnerable opening.

Jimbo barely had time to turn before he was thrown clear off his feet by Kyle's antlers. Ned was a bit faster with his weapon, but he lost his nerve and dropped it when Kyle reared up on his forelegs to make himself appear bigger. Ned staggered backwards to avoid the stag's powerful kicks and stomps.

"Run Ned! We're gonna need a bigger crossbow!" Jimbo shouted, hobbling to his feet.

Both hunters quickly scattered and ran, abandoning the wrathful stag and the entrapped peacock before they were gouged to death. Kyle let out a very satisfied snort and pulled the string to the trap open with his teeth.

The peacock inelegantly clamored out and shook his great colorful feathers at him. "Thank you, thank you!" he chirped gratefully. "That's the last time I get drunk off of fermented pumpkin seeds!"

Kyle instinctively jut out his chest with pride. "Yeah, you're welcome."

It wasn't until he made sure the peacock tottered away safely into the bushes did he realize he did the  _opposite_  of what he was supposed to do. Kyle dropped his head in frustration. "Aw crap…"

But he didn't have to wait long. His ears perked up when he heard another woodland critter cry out in distress further down the forest. This time it was a family of rabbits being uprooted by another band of hunters and their dogs. Kyle distracted the hunters by crashing and tipping the caravan onto its side and then made a beeline for the dense trees with the dogs practically nipping at his heels.

All thoughts of giving into the inevitable was lost the moment he was in fight-or-flight mode. His instincts led him to a river, which he bounced across as easy as skipping past a puddle. The dogs ended up faltering and some were even washed away in the attempt to cross. He kicked the one who jumped onto his flank hard enough for it to squeal and run away and the last he tossed off with his antlers right into a tree. It crumpled down the base just as arrows started zooming past Kyle's head.

Dodging and running was something a typical deer would do when faced with hunters, but Kyle was no typical deer. Instead of running away, Kyle charged them head on, leaving them stunned and shouting as they tried to scatter away from his antlers.

They quickly abandoned their caravan, leaving behind weaponry and pelts. Heaving hard for air, Kyle lightly paced around the upturned supplies and noticed the coat of arms belonging to Kupa Keep. It was futile and silly, but he couldn't help but nuzzle the engraved bit of wood with his cheek.

An over polished scent of wood and charcoal. It was definitely Kupa Keep.

Unfortunately, he found no hunter clever or ballsy enough to kill him which made him both relieved and disappointed at the same time. By the time the sun was setting on the horizon, he had mustered favors from the animal populace alike and, when he ended up going from hunter bullying to resolving disputes between two critters over who owned which part of a  _log_ , Kyle's original intention was lost to his heroism and sense of duty.

He spent the rest of the late afternoon mapping the entire forest on foot, feeling utterly free and alive for the first time in a long while. Even as a humanoid he could never make this many leaps and bounds without doubling over. As a stag, he never had to worry about hyperventilating or losing energy after a long bout of running.

Kyle ended up climbing up the face of a small cliff and found himself overlooking the entire forest. His rapidly beating heart fluttered when he took notice of Eric's castle not too far off.

The castle had been there the entire time - just barely out of his reach.

"You have done this forest a great deal of gratitude, Prince Kyle," A ghostly apparition took the form of a sparrow and hovered just beyond the cliff's edge. "Greetings. I am the Sparrow Prince. Long has my spirit been trapped within-"

"-wait, wait, wait," Kyle frowned. "You're kind of late to 'help' me out, don't you think? That frog king said you were supposed to coach me on how to move like a stag!"

The Sparrow Prince paused for a beat. "Yes. Now I am here. Come, let us begin your training montage."

Kyle glared at him. "I spent the entire day fighting off hunters, getting chased by hounds, and climbed this entire cliff on my own. I think having a training montage is kind of redundant at this point, don't you think?"

There was another beat from the sparrow. "You are not the only cursed animal in this forest, you know."

"Name one then," Kyle sneered.

Almost too coincidentally, the Frog King reappeared by the Sparrow Prince's side. "Ah, I see you have completed your training with the Sparrow Prince, your highness! Now, it is time for your next quest."

Kyle groaned in defeat. "You know, I didn't want to train anything! I was supposed to become _venison_ to start with."

"And yet you are still here," the Frog King said sagely. "It is not in your nature to die in the here and now, our prince. You must continue on and shape your destiny."

Kyle sighed and stood up a bit straighter, his form a startling visage of strength and majesty. He had been so caught up in mourning his curse that he didn't see the perks that came with being a stag. Eric would have probably exploited this months ago if they had switched positions.

"Well…" Kyle cleared his throat. "I suppose it would be a waste getting killed by some amateur. Maybe if I kept at this - scare off the hunters and all - it'll get someone's attention."

There hasn't been a resurgence of deer in Kupa Keep in gods knows how many years. This might work in his favor. Maybe Eric would notice.

But the hope of Eric searching for him made Kyle's ears fall flat. Scott hadn't been wrong - Uncle Jimbo was specifically looking for materials to sell for the countess' wares. That meant Eric was definitely starting a courtship season. Why bother worrying about a re-population of deer when he could be busy finding a new spouse to share his kingdom with?

"You must return to the lake, Prince Kyle," the Sparrow Prince said. "Night will soon blanket the horizon."

"I know. I just…" he glanced longingly up towards the ocean where the castle resided. They were already lighting up torches to combat the impending night. "I just want to look a bit longer."

* * *

Word was soon spreading about a lone stag scaring off hunters away from the western forest by both man and animal alike. It eventually reached the heart of kingdom in no small gratitude to Jimbo and Ned, who were determined to inform everyone about the rising fangled legend of the Crimson Stag.

"I'm telling you guys, me and Ned were out there chasin' some peacocks…" Jimbo began, one boot on the stool and waving his beer as he told and retold the tale to any drunkard listening. He managed to catch a bigger audience this time in the _Giggling Donkey_. "We caught a damn fine good one in a trap right out in the meadow. And Ned - tell 'em Ned - he had his crossbow already and good!"

"It - popped - out - of - nowhere," Ned replied, taking a swig of his ale.

"Right from the shadows it did! Like a fearsome creature!" Jimbo shouted, loud enough for the men to salivate from his tale. "This big ol' ten point buck with powerful antlers and a coat as red as blood! Just as great grand ol' pappy used to hunt in his time."

Ned piped up. "Its - eyes - were - green."

"Yup! Its eyes were as green as stained glass!" he continued excitedly. "It got me right on the side and tossed me clear over the trees! Check out these bruises!" The bar wenches hissed and cringed when he pulled up his shirt to reveal a large black and blue number that covered almost his entire side. "I'd have been a _goner_ if Ned didn't distract it with his trusty crossbow!"

Several patrons looked at each other with suspicion. Lord McCormick raised his arm like he was back in school again. "That doesn't sound like something a deer would do."

Jimbo pointed dramatically at him. "Listen wise guy, I know it sounds crazy, but it's true! This stag was a fighter - a complete alpha! Ask Mark! He had a run in with the very same one! Took out his entire hunting party, that it did!"

"It's true," a man grumbled angrily from the bar. He burped loudly. "That fucker destroyed my caravan and killed two of my dogs! We barely got out of there with our lives! All my hunting gear was abandoned! I'm ruined!"

And with Uncle Jimbo and Ned there to loudly brag in every single tavern by how fearsome and vicious the creature was, it didn't take long to reach Captain Donovan's table. The boys listened carefully to the older man's tale which was so crazy and out of place, they wouldn't have believed it was worth repeating again if not for what happened with the Goths.

Prince Kyle had apparently been captured by a red stag with green eyes. It couldn't be a coincidence.

"Looks like we'll be gettin' us a ship sooner than we thought, chaps," Clyde kicked his feet up the table with a sly grin. "I reckon this is  _exactly_  what our generous patron is lookin' fer."

Token frowned as the drunken men soon grew in number. Jimbo got so drunk and riled up by his audience, he started loudly planning a wild goose chase to see who can kill and mount the stag's head on their wall first. "We better tell him before they form a lynch mob."

By the following morning there was a great uproar and ruckus regarding the latest, peculiar decree.

_**~ By order of the Crown, no hunters are to visit the western forest until further notice. Those who defy this decree will be subjected to the gallows. ~** _

"Prince Eric sure likes a good hang, doesn't he?" Craig quipped dryly as Jimbo and the rest of the hunters groaned and whined at the decree nailed to the tavern door.

Clyde was much too busy cheerfully counting his heavy bags of gold to care.

* * *

The forest was almost eerily quiet after the decree the following day. With no hunters desperate to nap their kills, it allowed the animal population to take a breather for once. Perhaps over time they may even start repopulating once more.

But not all humans had been banned from entering. A conspicuous trading caravan stopped deep into the woods. The doors flew open and five adventurers in dirtied cloaks jumped out of it to check out the area for danger.

With his hood up, Eric looked no more different than the average hunter. He peered around for any sounds or movement and, satisfied that they were alone for now, threw open the burlap blanket in the back to reveal an overkill of weaponry and two caged pure-blood hounds. They bared their teeth at Eric and snarled when he picked up his staff.

"Filthy mutts," he commented with distaste before throwing a bow and a quiver of arrows to Kenny.

"The feeling's neutral, I bet," Stan grinned and stuck his fingers into both cages without hesitation. They immediately turned into happy slobbering beasts determined to lick at their master's fingers. "If I had these bad boys to start with, things would have gone a lot differently that night."

Butters shivered in fear but it didn't stop him from swinging his hammer around to test the new weight. "I can do this! I can do this!" he muttered to himself.

"Hmm…" Jimmy looked around from his perch on the coachman's side. He paused from tuning his lute. "T-th-the mu-music of the forest seems s-s-s-so silent."

"Over-hunting thanks to Stan's uncle and his boyfriend," Eric quipped, pretty sure they were the reason why their forests seemed to be harboring endangered species now. Kyle had been complaining about it three summers ago too.

Stan rolled his eyes. "They aren't like that. They're like… super best friends. Like me and Kyle." A skeptical look from Eric made him rethink his next words. "But they do over-hunt," he admitted sheepishly.

"Mmmftheymf fmmlikem mfmhuntingm fmmform massfmfmm…!" Kenny was making some kind of joke, but her mouth was covered so tightly by her scarf the only one who could reasonably translate what she said was Eric.

"Heh, heh! Totally Kenny!"

"I… really hope we just find Kyle and not the Great Animal," Butters stuttered, rubbing his knuckles together. A passing shadow from a rabbit made him jump. "If something happens to Prince Eric, I'll be grounded forever!"

"Actually you'd be _hanged_ , but that's totally beside the point," Eric replied and ignored Butters' horrified squeak. "For gods sake, Butters! You're a fucking paladin! Be the meat shield you were destined to be!"

"M-meat shield?!" Butters cried out. "I'm not supposed to be the meat shield! Am I?"

The rest of the party murmured in agreement. "Oh hamburgers!" he pouted. "I don't wanna be a meat shield…"

Once they were armed with both long and short ranged weapons, they ready to start covering the area. Eric moved to the front of the party. "Alright, let's begin Operation Kosher! We'll take advantage of the forest's silence. You see anything suspicious, blow your horns. Stan, you're staying in the caravan with Jimmy. Make for the north side."

Stan nodded before he hopped onto the back of the caravan with the dogs. Jimmy twisted the reins around his wrists. "Y-you c-c-can count on us, your ma-m-majesty!"

"Kenny, you'll take the east side since the cliffs there would make a good vantage point for you."

Giving him a two fingered salute, Kenny turned left and disappeared into the shrubbery. Thankfully, she didn't join them while wearing a dress. If she wasn't careful with her frocks, she may have to deal with Eric's season wearing only her underdresses.

Last and least, Eric sighed to himself and thumbed over his shoulder. "Butters, since you're utterly useless by yourself, I'll do you a solid by taking you with me. We're heading west towards the beach."

"Oh, thank God!" Butters exclaimed and quickly stuck to Eric's side. "D-don't worry, your highness… I won't let anything happen to you!"

Eric shoved him off. "Personal space, Butters. I know my ass is so perky and awesome, but I don't need you grabbing it."

"Sorry!"

With a final nod to Jimmy and Stan, Eric turned right and followed the lit path west. Butters was following his path, but gratefully far enough that they wouldn't step into each other again. They continued on with eyes peeled and their steps silent in the hopes of using the element of surprise to their advantage.

Perhaps they did it  _too_  well. When Eric turned around, Butters was completely missing. "Butters!" he hissed under his breath. "God-fucking-dammit!"

Further away from the path, Butters kept absolutely still, instinctively remaining in stranger danger mode his parents taught him.

"Oh jeez-willikers!" he mumbled in terror. He held his spare bow tight against his chest. Every little sound to Butters was like a great monster was upon him.

He started to cower until he realized that he lost the only heir to Kupa Keep. "You've got to keep moving, Butters!" he said to himself, bouncing on his toes for encouragement. "Your future king needs you!"

A mouse skittered past him. Butters let out a loud echoing shriek before dropping his bow and running off. It carried nearby, causing Eric to spin around.

Did Butters get caught by the Great Animal? He quickly backtracked and followed the origin of the scream.

* * *

Kyle was continuing his usual patrol up near the hillside when a scream caught his sensitive ears. He recognized that adorable sound of horror anywhere. "Butters!" he exclaimed happily to the Sparrow Prince. "That sounded like Butters!"

"You must be vigilant, young prince!" The Sparrow Prince warned. "Or you will surely die!"

But Kyle couldn't help it. He quickly galloped down the hill towards the thickening of trees, completely sure that was his old childhood friend.

Kyle stopped and sniffed at the broken twigs and fresh tracks made from the caravan. There were seven different scents - two of them dogs - but he recognized each and every one of them. His heart started to beat hard as he eagerly looked around to hear them.

It was the guys! They were just here! His joy overwhelming caution, Kyle bounded and jumped around the trees hoping to find one of them and, he didn't know, maybe _cuddle_ them to death or something. He didn't really have the appropriate appendages to hug them, but it didn't matter. He just wanted to know they were here and that they existed.

Kyle nearly tripped over a log when he saw a familiar broad back dodging between the trees ahead of him. A completely different reaction hit Kyle hard - one part excited and the other part with absolute longing.

_Eric!_

"Vigilance, my prince! You are not as you seem!" But the Sparrow's words went unheeded by Kyle's desperation to reunite with his former fiancé. The stag literally charged after the prince from behind forgetting about his form.

The light from the trees shifted along Kyle's stark white antlers, bouncing sunlight against path like an unholy halo of magic. Catching one of the bends, Eric immediately stopped and disappeared behind a tree. He peered around it and found exactly what Uncle Jimbo described - a ten point buck with crimson fur heading in his direction.

"Well fuck me," he murmured. "It really _is_ a stag." Deer like that hadn't been seen in Kupa Keep for over a century thanks to poachers. He wouldn't be surprised the slightest to find that Scott's ego caused him to assume the form of such a regal creature.

Eric gripped the staff in his hand hard. It was just as the Goths had told them. This had to be the creature that took Kyle and killed the king. Scott wasn't going to get away with this!

Abandoning the plan to just capture Scott, Eric furiously jumped from out of his hiding place and circled the staff over his head. Sharp curved blades weaved into existence from magic surrounded him. "I'VE GOT YOU, YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!"

Kyle immediately blanched at the preemptive strike and his hooves dug themselves awkwardly into the dirt in his attempt to backtrack and get away. Oh fuck!

The peacock Kyle had saved previously swooped down from above and clipped Eric hard on the head with its claws, causing the prince to howl in pain and release the blades. They spun chaotically ahead, effortlessly tearing down tree branches and everything in its deadly path. Kyle narrowly missed getting skewed through the neck by a rogue one and sprinted his way upward into the thicker canopy of trees.

Eric swiped at the blood stinging against his temple and refocused at the stag's retreat. His blue eyes sharp with determination, he pulled the horn out from his belt and blew it hard. The harsh, low sound practically reverberated through the entire forest, causing birds to fly out from the trees in pain.

Gasping in terror, Kyle dodged around in an effort to keep an eye on Eric than risk losing him and end up in big trouble. Eric was a relentless and crafty hunter. If he wanted something, he'd be damned to get it.

Even if he unknowingly wanted Kyle's head.

"Are you injured, young prince?" The Sparrow Prince asked and hovered close by.

"That asshole almost killed me!" Kyle screeched. "I'm in big fucking trouble!'

They started bounding off toward the safety of the lake, ironically enough. "Do not despair!" the Sparrow Prince urged. "Look to the sky! Night will soon be upon us! We must guide him to the lake and witness your true form!"

"Unless he kills me first!" he snapped back. He could hear and feel the air suddenly shift and, his heart lodged in his chest, literally jumped his way out of a whistling arrow that connected to the tree trunk. His _head_ had been near that spot for a split second.

Kyle snapped his gaze upwards and found Kenny on a nearby cliff. She fished through her quiver for another arrow without a second thought.

The Sparrow Prince sounded worried. "I did not anticipate another hero." A long tendril of lightning shot through the trees, dematerializing the sparrow and narrowly clipping Kyle in the shoulder.

Butters was not too far away, his hammer pointed bravely at Kyle, and was preparing to summon another bolt. Completely alone now, Kyle was forced to jump down the other side of the hill to avoid him, only to come across a caravan with Jimmy and his lute equipped in an open area.

Jimmy strummed the instrument hard. ** _♪_**   ** _There once was a woman from Stonebury Hollow…! ♫_**

A heavy sound-wave destroyed the trees around the caravan and completely blew Kyle off his feet in the process. Kyle tumbled off the hill in a flail of limbs until he slammed hard against a tree. He was going to have bruises fucking  _everywhere_.

There was another sound of the horn. Terrified by how determined his own friends were in their mad hunt, Kyle began to panic and scramble to his feet to escape. He hopped in the dirt like a chicken ready for slaughter and the sound was enough to catch another predator entirely.

He found Stan staring harshly at him from a good distance away. And, as if in slow motion, watched as Stan waved his hand down to order his hounds to chase after him. They weren't any normal hunting hounds either - they were beefed up  _orc_ killing hounds.

Oh gods, no! This was a nightmare - a total fucking nightmare!

He was going to die like this.  _I'm going to die like this!_

Instinct told him to fight - to drive these monsters away from the forest and continue protecting the land, but he adamantly refused. These were his  _friends_. He could never hurt them - even at the cost of saving himself.

Using the last of his strength, Kyle pushed through his pain and adrenaline at the last second. The hounds almost buried their teeth into his flank when he gained enough speed for safety, but he managed to kick one away with his hind legs as consolation. The way through the barrier and into the safety of the lake was just at his reach. He needed to get there, he needed to -

Eric shouted triumphantly as his spell hit the stag right at its core and sent it tumbling off nearby. His comrades quickly returned to his side, still well-armed and thirsty for revenge.

"This is it," he said soberly. "It's our chance to do what we came here to do."

Stan nodded, carrying one of his injured and whimpering hounds over his shoulder. The other continued to growl angrily in the stag's direction by his feet. "We wounded it pretty bad. I doubt it'll pull off much of a fight at this rate."

Butters was the only one who seemed unsure. "It didn't… did it fight back? I didn't see that it did."

"Don't fucking feel sorry for it, Butters, you wimp!" Eric shot at him before continuing forward. "That's what Scott wants us to think. I'm not going to let him get the best of me! Not this time!"

* * *

When the Sparrow Prince was finally able to rearrange his ghostly form back together, he could only watch as Kyle half-tumbled, half-tripped himself until he came to rest in a ditch just a few inches away from the lake water.

Kyle tried once more to lift his head, but he was too tired and wounded to do much more. He eventually collapsed onto the dirt and fell unconscious. That was when the Catatafish materialized for the first time from beneath the lake.

"Prince Kyle, I am the Catatafish," the Catatafish began, despite Kyle being unable to hear him. "You must return to the water. Only then will your wounds be healed."

Kyle could only muster a glare back before his eyes slipped closed again.

The Frog King materialized next to him as the dust settled. "You must reach the lake, young prince. Transform back and your wounds will be healed. Show them you are no great beast, but a cursed beloved."

"…I won't be able to do it in time. They'll kill me before it even starts…" Kyle mumbled weakly. Everything hurt - from his tail to his _antlers_. His flank was bleeding from the hounds' sharp claws and he was pretty sure he broke a couple of ribs during the last tumble. At this point, Kyle wasn't even sure if he could even survive the _walk_ over without collapsing again. 

"You must try," The King rested a webbed hand on his head, causing him to stir again. "Or you will surely miss your chance."

Eric and his comrades had anticipated more trees when they stalked the area where the stag had fallen. But with the barrier still weakened, it revealed to the adventurers a lost broken down castle nearly covered in undergrowth. Encompassing it was a beautiful shimmering lake with water as clear as the sky.

"Holy shit," Stan muttered. "I don't remember this on any map."

Kenny flexed her bow. "We must have found where Tenorman's been hiding away in."

Eric could taste the magic in the air. "Mmm… a very complex barrier. And it's super weak. Probably because we hurt him real bad."

"I-I suppose it explains why we can just come in now…" Butters stuttered, not very much liking that the sun had completely set and night had fallen.

There was something moving near the bank. Everyone raised their weapons in preparation for battle, but they faltered when the crimson stag struggled its way along the shallow end of the water. From the way it looked it seemed almost on the brink of death.

Eric lowered his hand. "Stand down," he ordered and snapped his fingers for Kenny's bow. "The last shot is mine."

Watching the stag trip over itself trying to stand properly was almost too hard to watch for Stan. His love for animals spurred at the sight, he couldn't help but make a comment. "Come on, Eric. He's not going to put up a fight anymore. Let's just catch him and see where he-"

"He _killed_ King Gerald, Stan!" Eric snarled and notched an arrow at it. "And he took Kyle! I'm going to give him the same respect it deserves - an arrow right through his fucking head!"

Kyle mustered the strength to snap his head up at the words. His father… was dead? He let out a sharp, stupid wheeze of anguish as he tried desperately to sob in this ridiculous form.

_We can go back and sort this out, Kyle. We can do it together._

But they couldn't do it together. Not anymore. His father was dead and Eric was going to kill the wrong person out of misguided anger.

The months spent being imprisoned, cursed, and beaten up severely by his friends was the final straw the moment he found himself facing the sharp end of Eric's arrow. All he could do is release his distress through frantic, strangling snorts that were meant to be sobs.

Moonlight couldn't have come faster to kiss the water beneath him.  _  
_

The pendant burned against Eric’s chest. It did multiple times throughout the hunt every time he had a clear shot of hurting the Great Animal. This time, he wasn’t going to let it stop him from taking vengeance for Kyle. Let it burn deep into his skin and fester for all he cared.

But the moment the stag whined for his life like a dork made the tightly drawn arrow shake between his fingers. Why the fuck would Scott cry like a bitch now? Didn't he have any kind of respect at all. "Stop crying, you pussy! Die like a man!" Eric howled angrily.

“W-w-well, go on y-you-your highness!” Jimmy piped up. “W-wi-wipe the floor with i-i-it.”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m going to!” Eric snapped before realigning his shot again. The stag continued to sob pathetically, so much so that the fight left Eric empty and humiliated. He just couldn't take the shot.

“FUCK!” he snarled and threw the bow down.

He couldn’t do it. And he failed the King and Kyle because of it. Eric smacked himself in the forehead multiple times, trying keep himself from tearing up too. What a pathetic creature - _him_ that is.

How could he face Kyle now knowing that he couldn’t kill the man who slew his father?

The thin crescent moon encroached upon the water until it finally settled beneath the stag’s grieving form. Eric’s eyes widened when the water started to magically swish around and, when it enveloped the stag in a swirling cocoon of light and water, it immediately dissipated, leaving a very distressed and howling Prince Kyle in its wake.


	14. To Find a Way to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You must prove it to the world.

They stood there just slack jawed and wondering what the hell just transpired a minute ago. There, once a wounded stag wading on the shallow end of this apparently magical lake, now stood the lost Prince of the Drow. As Kyle could only stand there and sob pathetically into his palm, Kenny realized that barely five minutes ago they had gone and almost slaughtered the person they were trying to save.

"Ooooooh…" she hissed awkwardly and lowered the scarf from her mouth. "We done fucked up this time, didn't we?"

"KYLE!" Stan yelled and made for his missing prince if not for Jimmy's lute in his way. "Back off, Jimmy!" he snarled, dropping his cargo of hounds down. They squeaked and almost knocked him over in the process. 

"W-we have to make s-s-s-sure it's really his hi-high-highness," Jimmy replied simply.

His teeth grinding together with anticipation, Stan stepped back and let the bard use his elf senses to see through the disguise. He _knew_ it was Kyle. It had to be him, but Jimmy was right. What if this was just another trap? He forced his eyes away from Kyle and focused on Eric instead who seemed so eerily still, he might as well have been a statue.

When Kyle managed to weave actual words together, his voice was hoarse. "You assholes almost killed me! And now you're telling me dad's… that dad's…"

Kyle's voice was like a siren's song. Eric instinctively shot toward the lake despite Butters' warning, uncaring of the water splashing into his boots. He was being so reckless - Scott could have easily just transformed himself into Kyle just to catch him off-guard - but he couldn't help himself. He felt alive for the first time in months the moment he pulled Kyle into his arms and literally knew from touch alone that this was his prince. How perfect Kyle fit against him was proof enough. 

"Oh God, Kyle. Kyle… I'm so fucking sorry, Kyle!" he admitted once he managed to recover his voice. Stan was worried he was going to kill Kyle by suffocation instead, but Kyle only grunted in surprise, his anguish diverted once he realized who was determined to crush him to death.

Eric was here. Everyone was here. With widened eyes, Kyle's lips instinctively sought a spot beneath Eric's jaw and breathed in his scent like it was the last thing he would ever do. Eric sighed and his dirtied fingers slid across Kyle's cheek in response, but he didn't care. When that just wasn't enough, their lips quickly sought out each other in a full, desperate kiss.

If the embrace didn't prove Kyle's authenticity, then this kiss would have. Both were utterly lost in the moment, uncaring of the audience in full witness to such a gay, tender moment. Kenny tilted her head at the scene and fought the urge to break the love fest with an immodest coo.

"What's the verdict, Jimmy?" Butters asked, his eyes averted and hand still on his hammer. Despite how genuine the reunion had looked, he didn't want to take any chances that it was a trap either. "Is he the real deal?"

After a moment, Jimmy opened his eyes and smiled. "Th-that's our prince, alright," he said with a relieved nod. "And one heck of a c-c-curse on him though."

Kenny sighed and palmed her face. "I can't believe Eric was right the whole time. _Kyle was alive_. Kinda makes you feel a bit stupid, doesn't it?"

She wasn't the only one who regretted doubting Eric. Knees shaking, Stan slid to the ground with relief, a great burden lifted seeing his best friend here alive and safe. He didn't fail in his duty. The Drow Kingdom can be freed from its isolation and they could properly go home.

This had to be an illusion for Kyle. Maybe Eric did manage to kill him and this was just Kyle's fever dream before he passed on to the underworld. But Kyle could smell dirt, sweat, and that distinct smell that was completely unequivocally _Eric_ and that just couldn't be made up so easily in his head. When he opened his eyes, he found those familiar blue eyes staring back, unblinking and intense. Was Eric trying not to close his eyes for fear of opening them and finding it all an illusion too? He couldn't help but smile in relief before being kissed again with that softness so not like him, but _entirely_ like him.

"I'm so fucking done," Kyle whispered against Eric's lips as they parted a second time. His fingers tangled hard into Eric's mottled cloak. "Get me out of here. I want to go home."

"…your kingdom closed itself off," Eric said breathlessly, his expression crumpling at the the idea of Kyle leaving him for his homeland. "But I guess I can…"

Kyle let out a chuckle and shook his head. "The other one." Taking Eric's face in his hands, he kissed him - this time harder and keening, in order to show Eric the physical need of his request. "I thought you gave up on me. You had no reason to believe…"

"I knew you were out here, Kyle! Everyone wanted me to give up, but I told them to fuck off!" Eric said fiercely. "I'm taking you home, Kyle - right after I fucking kill the asshole who did this to you!"

Before Kyle could answer, he ended up finally tackled by Stan, who couldn't wait any longer to be reunited with his prince and best friend. Butters happily followed with a victorious shout before Kenny and Jimmy rounded up all of them into a giant bear hug. Even Stan's beefy hounds bounded and splashed around like pups at the positive energy their master was exuding.

"Oof… sorry for hurting your dogs, Stan," Kyle wheezed apologetically as Stan practically tried to out bear hug Eric.

Stan started to sniffle into Kyle's shoulder. "It's okay, Kyle… oh gods, man! You're okay. _We're okay._ I can't… I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have left you alone!"

"You said you'd come back for me and you did," Kyle replied before patting his best friend's back in comfort. He let out an exasperated snort when Stan wobbled their embrace side-to-side like a constipated penguin. "Gods, Stan! It's okay!" he laughed.

"Goddamn pussy," Eric sniffed and he certainly _didn't_ rub the tears away from corner of his eye at such a gay moment. Kenny snorted and patted Eric comfortingly on the upper arm.  

"I'm really, really sorry we tried to kill you earlier, Kyle!" Butters whined sheepishly to the side. "Please don't tell my parents! They'd be awful sore I almost committed regicide!"

Kyle flashed a grin at him. "I'll keep that in mind during your tribunal, Butters."

The look of horror on Butters' face made Eric bark out in laughter before he threw Stan off and stole Kyle's lips again. Finding herself trapped between the mushy couple this time, Kenny appropriately made vomiting sounds before they all eventually parted and trudged back to land, soaked trousers and all.

"I can't leave this place," Kyle said in protest when Eric tried to take his hand and drag him through the barrier "Once the moonlight leaves the lake I'll turn back into a stag!"

"Hmm…" Jimmy lifted his lute and played a gentle tune. The wind swirled pleasantly around Kyle before dying. "That's a re-re-really complex curse you've got there. It must have b-been made b-by a really p-po-pow-powerful sorcer-sorcerer."

Fucking Scott. Eric wasn't deterred. "I'm totally cool with you living your life as a stag, Kyle," he drawled plainly, "but you're not staying here. And I'm not leaving you ever again."

"But I don't _want_ to spend half my life as a stag!" Kyle retorted. Despite how liberating it was as an animal, he had a destiny to fulfill. With his father gone, he needed to quickly ascend and stabilize the Drow lands again. "And I've tested how far I can go! If I can't go back to the lake in time, I could permanently stay in that form!"

Stan frowned. "Then we gotta break the spell. How do we do it?"

"A vow," Kyle said seriously, catching Eric's eye particularly. "You have to make a vow of everlasting love to me."

"That's really seriously gay, Kyle," Eric joked then sobered up from Kyle's glare. "Okay, okay." Earning himself a few puzzled looks, Eric dramatically got down on one knee like an actual prince from a fairytale. "Kyle? I love you. I really do. An  _everlasting_  love, perhaps. Let me count the ways…"

Kenny's nose scrunched up. "Fucking lame."

"Shut your whore mouth, Kenny!" he shot back before sliding into a charming smile again. He took Kyle's hand into his. "Now where was I?"

"How about the part where you're actually _genuine_?" Kyle growled, tugging his hand away. "Wasn't this how it all started? You couldn't be sincere and everything went to shit! And you're doing it now!"

Eric pouted and stood up in frustration, brushing at his dusty pants. "I can't just… pour my heart out like a bitch in front of our friends, Kyle! It's fucking embarrassing!" he whined, making Kyle roll his eyes again. Fucking typical.

All those months apart didn't do much for Eric's maturity, Kyle decided. "Well then I guess I'll have to consider buying real estate here with your fucking archenemy, because the vow has to be in front of the world, Eric!"

"Archenemy?" Eric blinked, completely sidetracked. "Can you narrow that shit down for me, babe? Because even my nursemaid's got a grudge against me!"

"I think he means your brother," Kenny snorted, then shrugged at Kyle's incredulous stare. "Yeah, we discovered it was Scott Tenorman. It was either him or _Eric_ that did you in apparently. Did you know Stan actually thought it was Eric's fault you were kidnapped?"

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please don't mention that. I'm humiliated enough as it is. Look, now that we're all here together, we should come up with a strategy to deal with Tenor-"

Everyone watched in horror as Stan slowly faded from sight unawares. Kenny frantically waved her arms in the air where Stan once stood, leaving his dogs to whine pathetically at the lost of their master.

Kyle grabbed Eric's forearm. "The barrier gets stronger at night!" he told them urgently. "It only weakens when I become a stag. You're all going to get booted out of here!"

Butters began freaking out as he started to turn transparent and, with a wail of terror, was the next one to completely disappear. Stan's dogs soon followed, whimpering in fear.

"NO!" Eric swore and pulled Kyle close by his forearms. "I can't lose you again, Kyle! I can't!"

Kyle sank into Eric's embrace to savor what little moments they had left. Kenny regarded them soberly before she too started to disappear. "Eric, did my father really…" Kyle trailed off and lowered his head when Eric pressed his lips into his crimson curls.

"I'm so sorry, Kyle," he whispered. "I got there too late… but I was with him before he… you know."

With a shuttering exhale, Kyle pressed his forehead against Eric's. "You were with him," he murmured, his smile bittersweet. "That means a lot. You have no idea…" 

"I think I have an idea," Eric replied just as Jimmy was the next one to disappear.

"What about Ike?"

"He's with us. He hasn't talked since-" Eric look down and found his hands turning transparent. "Kyle! I'll make the vow! I promise!" A brilliant idea hit him hard. "My mom! There's a party tomorrow night for my season! Make it to the castle and I'll make that vow of everlasting love to you. I swear on it."

Kyle's expression twisted into a hopeful grin. "You know it requires actually being in love with me, fatass. That's kind of the prerequisite."

At the last possible moment, Eric draped the missing pendant over Kyle's head. "Isn't it obvious, Jewrat?" he grinned until his voice started to echo. 

"Fucker," Kyle sniffed and viciously wiped at his eyes after Eric finally disappeared along with the rest of them. Everyone was gone, but they knew he was out here. That was enough to renew his resolve.

Eric never forgot him. He never stopped searching for him. Kyle absently brushed his fingers over the familiar metal of his necklace, finding comfort with it. How many years has Kyle had it? How many times did he play with it whenever Eric pissed him off or set his blood ablaze with affection? Eric held onto it the whole time, knowing he would eventually return it to its proper owner.

Despite the mushiness, Kyle couldn't be more in love than this very moment.

They had a chance.

* * *

When the distortion finally settled in front of Eric's eyes, he blinked. Kyle and the lake were gone. In its place were the familiar woods with trees surrounding them. It seemed almost like a hallucination what they had discovered. He was forced to part with Kyle again, but Eric knew it was only temporary. The next time he saw Kyle, he was going to make sure he stayed with him for good. And, with Scott's head, Eric was going to finally be rid of his past.

Kyle was alive. He had been in his arms. Eric had never been so sure of his future until now.

Stan thumped Eric in the shoulder. "I can't believe you found him," he smiled wistfully. "Sorry for doubting you, Eric."

"So what's the plan?" Kenny inquired curiously, fixing the quiver strap over her shoulder. "Shouldn't we find Tenorman?"

Eric's stupid grin faltered. "We can't afford any fuck ups this time, Kenny. If we kill him, who knows if it'll end the curse or not and I'm not taking any chances. No, we need to carefully make sure that Kyle's no longer tethered to Scott before we go after him with an army."

She smirked. "It's nice to see you finally got your shit together, Eric. Did your little kissyfest with Kyle give you strength?"

"You're just jealous because I have an epic romance and all you've got is your hand," Eric sneered. He licked his bottom lip, unconsciously savoring the memory of Kyle's lips against his. "I'm going fix this," he decided, looking back over his shoulder. "Kyle's going to come to the ball tomorrow. That's when I make a vow of everlasting love to every royal in Zaron. No cheats, no fuck ups. Just a few simple words that's going to give me what I've been fighting for this entire summer. The Drow Kingdom will finally have their king - and I'll have my bride."

The way Eric stood so confidently, no longer burdened by the doubt of Kyle's survival or the threat of being framed for it, took Butters' breath away. "Wow…" he said in awe, voicing for the others.

"What?"

"Just n-no-now, you looked so c-c-c-cool," Jimmy replied.

Butters nodded eagerly. "Like a real king, Eric!" Kenny sized Eric up for a long moment before nodding in agreement.

Eric scoffed, fighting back a blush. "Fuck you guys, I'm always cool."

Stan narrowed his eyes. "Don't you mean _groom_?"

Eric let out a bark of laughter as they started walking back to the castle. "Screw that! I'm not wearing the dress to the wedding!"

"Kyle isn't a girl," Stan insisted, making Eric roll his eyes.

"Yeah okay, Stan. I know he's not a fucking girl - I'm just fucking around. Let me guess why you seem to be lacking a sense of humor these days - it's Lady Testaburger's fault, isn't it? That's how it starts for her kind, you know. They shake their tits, read books, and draw you in with 'philosophy' and 'equality'. That's how they ensnare men."

Stan's shoulders hitched up defensively. "Wendy isn't ensnaring me! I like her for her beliefs and how smart she is and stuff!"

"Uh-huh," Eric drawled and flashed a wink at Kenny before addressing Stan again. "So that's all you like about her, huh? Because she's _intelligent_? I'm not surprised - she probably has lopsided tits or something so she's gotta make up for that somehow."

"She does not have lopsided tits, Eric!" Stan retorted angrily. "She's got beautiful tits!"

Butters made a shushing sound to Jimmy before he could intervene. 

Eric's eyes glittered, cornering Stan just where he wanted him. "Wow, Stan. Are you… are you _objectifying_ Wendy's body? You are, aren't you? Isn't that like, against her belief system or some shit? Maybe you aren't as politically correct as you thought for her."

Stan's eyes widened and his argument began to falter. "Oh, come on! …I mean. Look, can't I like her for both her brains AND her body? What's the big fucking deal?"

"You're absolutely right, Stan," Eric nodded calmly. "What -is- the big fucking deal? Now you see the flaw in her spell. She wants you to love her mind - but her body too? That makes you shallow in her eyes. How does that make sense? It doesn't. You can't win no matter what. You want my honest advice? Things never work out with a girl who contradicts herself. Maybe you should start courting someone who sees beyond your barbaric imperfections and loves you for the way you are."

"W-w-wow…" Jimmy said in awe as Stan showed a hint of uncertainty and confusion. "H-he's r-r-really g-good."

Kenny couldn't help but muffle out a 'yeah', despite Stan's glare. Eric smirked at her, playing wingman for her since he was on a victory high. If he was getting his happy ending, why not one of his own best friends too?

When Stan shook his head at such stupidity and turned to check on his dogs, Kenny high-fived her prince from behind for the slick burn. Prince Eric finally got his manipulative bastard groove back. She had been worried for awhile there thanks to Kyle's disappearance the last few months. Emo Eric was a boring Eric in her opinion.

And if Eric was this cool after just making out with Kyle, she wondered what he'd be like when he finally got _laid_.

* * *

Lord Scott had just about enough of the elf's so-called trickery. It didn't take him long to hear about Kyle's stint among the populace for his deeds in the forest. On one hand, perhaps he should have turned Kyle into something smaller like a _worm_ , but the damage was already done.

When he decided to confront Kyle later that night in the lake, he wasn't surprised to find the prince sitting on a low stone wall trying to pretend he wasn't in high spirits. Elves had the tendency to wear their emotions on their sleeves; deception was anathema to their peaceful dispositions. He could tell a mile away what Kyle was really feeling.

The one thing that truly threatened Scott was the other side of Kyle's genetics - the hot-blooded barbarian from Jersey - and being the spawn of the woman who ruined _everything_ for him.

Sometimes he had to cut their time short and make a hasty retreat whenever those green eyes glared at him in a certain way. Kyle had that very look in Queen Sheila's eyes -  the one where she obliterated his army and unseated the Stick of Truth from his very fingers.

Marrying Kyle would have been the greatest fuck you he could ever give to her and his quest for vengeance looked as if God was lining up the pieces for him when he found the boy betrothed to his half-brother. Perhaps he was too confident in his ability to weave a sob story good enough to draw the bleeding heart elf in, or maybe he didn't perceive how loyal Kyle was to Eric, but Kyle's continued refusal did slow his plans to a stuttering halt.

He would have to rectify this quickly. Plastering on his 'sweetest' smile, Scott walked over. "Did you have a nice outing, my little Stag Prince?"

As usual, Kyle answered him with a mild glare and did nothing more to recognize that Scott existed.

"A fat load that did, didn't it?" Scott continued, his cloak dragging along the dirt before he stopped directly in front of the silent prince. "You can gallop to the ends of Zaron, but the moment you skip the night, you'll forever remain a useless, pathetic buck." His head tilted. "Sir Slave said he heard voices earlier. I don't suppose you're practicing ventriloquy to pass the time…?"

That tell-tale stiffening of his back said it all. Kyle crossed both his arms and legs. "You trust the word of your manservant? He tried to feed me lube once you know. He mistook it for fish paste."

"Perhaps," he replied, sliding into a seat next to him with a slickness befitting a Tenorman. Kyle instinctively recoiled. "Then I suppose you were just practicing your wedding vows for when you accept the proposal, hmm?"

Kyle swallowed hard. "M… maybe I was."

Scott's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? I guess Stockholm's Syndrome finally kicked in. Fucking finally!" Getting down one knee, he held Kyle's dangling leg in mock-reverence. "You won't regret it, Kyle, I swear. With you by my side, we can retake my kingdom and make it grand again! I'll give you the greatest dowry -"

"In exchange for my own," Kyle replied in thinly veiled anger.

"Well… yeah," Scott said with a psychotic grin. "I know you control the Stick. I witnessed that power firsthand when we fought in combat. That's when I knew I had to take you for myself." He conjured a very flattering crown out of thin air and offered it to Kyle. "Your key to your prison door, Kyle. This crown has the power to break the curse. You'll never have to be a stag again."

Kyle exhaled slowly at the offer. Yesterday night it would have been tempting - perhaps too tempting - because he simply had no options left aside from death. And _that_ plan didn't turn out so good either. If he took it, he wouldn't need Eric's vow of everlasting love. A small part of him wondered if Eric learned his lesson this time about being sincere. What if he fucked up again?

But reason and logic aside, Kyle was just too much of a lovesick idiot to give up on Eric now. He never gave up searching for him. That was proof enough that he could… that he could _trust_ Eric on keeping his word - that he was capable of proving to the world that he truly loved him.

"Even if I say yes, you're still shit out of luck," he answered calmly. "Do you think I have the Stick somewhere up my ass or something? You forgot that I was engaged to Eric once upon a time. It's not in my possession anymore. It hadn't been for the last _thirteen_ years."

Scott lowered the crown, his brow knitted together with confusion. "But… I know that magical signature! It came from you! It…" It dawned on him. He slapped his forehead and smiled viciously. "But of course. So fucking simple! Your father and that stupid bitch split the Stick up, didn't they? This changes everything…"

He shoved himself away from Kyle and pulled out the discarded bow from under his cloak. "This doesn't mean anything to you, I'm assuming?" he spat. "Because I can smell my brother's stink on it!"

The jig was up. Kyle hopped off the stone wall and drew to his full height. "Eric knows I'm alive," he said with vicious pride. "He's going to break the curse-"

"And make a vow of everlasting love in front of the entire kingdom," Scott mocked in a high-pitched voice. The bow ignited and burned in his hand until it crumbled to ash. "I bet he has the Stick on him too. I'll acquire that physical half… and then deal with you." He flicked his fingers, sensing the other half of the Stick's power within the locket his idiotic brother returned to Kyle.

The golden locket suddenly twisted around Kyle's neck tightly, leaving strangled noise in his wake before he was magically pulled up along with it. The whimper and choking sounds as Kyle's fingers dug into the thin chain around his neck were literal music to Scott's ears.

"There it is," Scott breathed with delight as the pendant ignited itself into a golden flame - a vain safeguard to naturally protect Kyle. Unlike last time, Scott knew better than to touch it. "I can't believe I almost threw away the vessel that housed the Stick's power! All this time… and what's this?"

While Kyle coughed and wheezed, Scott admired the extra bit of blue magic placed on the pendant. "A juggernaut spell to temporarily break barriers. My my, Eric's become quite the crafty son of a bitch, isn't he? Did he think you can just waltz out of here with such a juvenile charm?"

"If… you want… to stop me," Kyle managed to choke out, "…you'll have to… kill me."

"Oh, but what a waste of your exotic looks. I'm assuming you won't change your mind about me?" How easy Kyle can forget. Scott always has another plan in place. He always did.

Scott relaxed his fingers and dropped Kyle to the ground. Kyle instinctively grabbed his throat while he coughed and painfully wheezed for air.

"Love turned you real fucking stupid," he told Kyle before gesturing to the thinning moon. "Are you planning on sharpening your antlers for the ball instead? Because you've forgotten one important thing tomorrow night. There is  _no_  moon."

Gasping, Kyle swiveled his head upwards to the sky and that once passionate glare dissolved into anguish. That resigned horror in those eyes - it was probably the most beautiful expression Kyle bequeathed to him.

"But don't worry," he cooed softly and, with a flick of his fingers, ripped the pendant from Kyle's neck. The flame instantly extinguished, allowing Scott to dangle it in front of Kyle. "I wouldn't want to disappoint your poor, lovesick Eric. Now what kind of brother would I be doing that?"

Kyle tried to snatch the pendant back, but Scott kept his distance before pocketing it. "You've been very naughty, Kyle. If you can't behave nicely like a prince, I'll have to treat the rest of your stay here like a stag."

The last thing Kyle saw was Scott's shadow approaching him and the sound of sharp magic ringing the air.


	15. Going Back to That Old Black Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I intend to eat their lunches.

No matter which spell Scott used to open the locket, the result ended up the same. It was like the Stick of Truth's power was sucked up its own asshole and no amount prying would drive a wedge through the super thin crease and reveal the magic within.

Perhaps he could torture Kyle some more on how to open it, but the poor thing had been in and out of consciousness ever since he locked him up within the stone bowels of his castle. That was how his forefathers dealt with Drow prisoners of war - cut them off from nature and they slowly die off like a sickness. He learned that quickly the first time he unwittingly locked Kyle away before he cursed him.

Kyle had been quite a naughty guest entertaining strangers without informing the host. Now he had all the manmade stone in the world as his companion to think about what he had done. That and well, Scott had little use for him now. Despite the setback with the locket, he was literally one half step away from acquiring the Stick. Once he acquired Eric's other half, the union would have to finally unlock its magic.

Scott hummed in the midst of his spellcasting, idly rubbing at the graying stubble on his chin. The locket hovered in mid-air and occasionally bounced around as it continued to repel every bit of magic Scott continued to throw at it even now.

"Eric thinks he's one step ahead of me. He'll regret that," he said, loud enough for Sir Slave to intentionally _not_ hear him as he was busy reading his magazine. But he didn't need Sir Slave's input as usual. An idea hit him again. Just how bad could he hurt Eric in his latest scheme? _Plenty_ , he found with a slow grin.

The laws of magic allowed him an extra clause to the Kyle's curse. That was the first thing that came to mind. Eric had found Kyle - something Scott honestly did not expect having watched him all these years. The young man was crude, lazy, but altogether a schemer, not a doer. The brute force of his determination to locate a lost fiancé that was supposed to mean little to him came completely out of left field.

With Kyle locked up where he can't further fuck up his plans, Scott summoned the prince's life braid from out of the smoke of his candles and twisted its thrumming beauty between his fingers. A large sliver cluster of the braid that represented Kyle's magic was taut and bound by an unnatural black string - it ran throughout the braid like an ethereal eye sore.

That was where his curse bound itself to, leaving Kyle without magic and ensnared as a stag.

Scott had spent the rest of the night taking a secondary look at the braid. That was when discovered some interesting things when it came in contact to the pendant. For King Gerald to do such a thing to his own son - to tie the boy's life force with the Stick of Truth itself - was utterly stupid, but clever.

As such, he gripped the braid tightly in his hands. He could unravel the entire canvas if he wished to and end Kyle right then and there, but that was way too easy. He wanted Eric to suffer to the point of breaking. No, he wasn't going to snuff out Kyle's life.

Eric will.

And, desperate to save Kyle, Eric will hand over the Stick like the sap that he was. Of course, Kyle would die before he even had a fighting chance, making the sacrifice all the more meaningless and so much sweeter. The thought made Scott bounce on his heels with excitement. It was so diabolical, he could cry from its sheer awesomeness.

And with Kyle's death, he had no qualms that whatever that was powering the locket would deactivate and the Stick's power will finally be free to return to its physical form. With the Drow Kingdom so isolated in itself they would never be able to regain it in time before Scott got his hands on it.

"Kyle won't make it to the ball because I won't bring him," he smirked and transformed into a spitting image of the elf prince. "So I'll zap up a date who's a real dead ringer!"

Sir Slave finally looked up from his magazine and frowned at the ugly sneer on 'Kyle's' face. "Oh Jesuths Christh…"

The way Scott moved with purpose in Kyle's form was way too obvious for him to pull off successfully. Scott realized this when he twisted around in his new form, suddenly unsure. "Hmm… perhaps I just won't do. I don't have that… what's that word…"

"Believability?" Sir Slave lazily returned to his magazine.

His manservant may have a point. "Kyle just doesn't have that edginess like I do," Scott admitted before he turned back to normal in a flash of light. "I couldn't pull off being such a goody two-shoes if my life depended on it."

"Remember the royal youth play when you were a sprout?" Sir Slave asked out of the blue.

Scott bared his teeth at the memory. " _Barely_."

"You made a really bad King Arthur, sweetie," he said and flipped another page. "You just never had that acting spark. No matter how many acting lessons I gave you as a babe, it just never seemed to stick."

 _Acting lessons._ Scott's eyebrow quirked upwards with an idea.

"You've acquainted yourself pretty well with the prince, haven't you Sir Slave?" Scott asked, turning to find his manservant with his feet kicked up on an open table and leafing through the latest issue of _Ye Queer Erotica_. "Sir Slave!" he snarled.

Sir Slave sighed before licking his finger and turning a page. "I heard you, sweetie. I'm just trying to finish this article fir-" The magazine spontaneously lit itself on fire. Slave sighed again. "I suppose I have been spending lots of time with Kyle. He just gets so lonely on those nights…"

"And you know how he walks, how he talks," Scott urged when Sir Slave modestly shrugged. "Why, you could even be the _spitting_ image of him if you wanted. You're such a fabulous actor."

Sir Slave's eyes lit up. "Oh geez, you're just saying that!"

"Oh, no, no," Scott continued with a menacing grin. "I can tell. I'm a wizard, you know. Such a starlet aura emanating from you… sometimes I can't even look at you, it's so blinding!"

"Staaaahp," he replied with a flirty gesture. "I can't handle all this flattery!"

Scott turned away from the gentle curling of Kyle's life braid to size Sir Slave up. "Oh yes… I think you'll do just fine. Would you like to go to Eric's seasonal ball, Sir Slave? I'll turn you into Kyle, you'll go in his place, and all you have to do is snuggle up to the prince until he makes a vow of everlasting love. You'll have a front row seat to a kingdom's demise, I can tell you that."

"But wouldn't that break the spell on Kyle?"

"If Eric makes the vow to the wrong person, Kyle will have far more pressing matters than just remaining a stag…" Scott turned back around and flashed his teeth at the last poisonous thread around Kyle's life braid. "…Kyle will _die_."

"Oh dear…" his manservant suddenly seemed hesitant. "That's a little crazy don't you think? Kyle isn't all that bad. And he listens to my latest gossip every night… that's nice."

Scott switched gears quickly. "Oh, did I say die? I meant _cry_. You know tomorrow's a new moon? There's no way he can go to the ball as a stag. He would just weep from happiness to hear you took his place!"

"Oh, well in that case, that doesn't sound bad at all!" he said happily, brushing away the ash from the table. "See, I keep telling people that you're nice on the inside, but for some reason they don't seem to believe me. Kyle especially."

"Yes," he said dismissively. "Whatever. Just get up and spin around a bit."

With a great flash of magic, Sir Slave turned from a forty-something year old man into a young ginger elf svelte in black. Giggling with anticipation, Sir Slave examined himself into one of Scott's magic mirrors at the end of the room.

"Jesthus Christh," he said in Kyle's voice, happily posing in a provocative manner. "Oh my. Kyle's tushy is so perky!"

With an unsure frown, Scott thought about ordering Sir Slave to tone down the perversion, but he decided that his outrageously sexual manner might actually work in his favor. It was too fascinating to watch 'Kyle' move in such a sensual way.

When Sir Slave bit his lip coyly at his reflection, Scott decided if he hadn't been so straight himself, well… perhaps he would have been a bit more aggressive securing Kyle's hand in marriage. Oh well. Tis no longer here or there. The point was 'Kyle' certainly was much more attractive letting his proverbial curls down. Any advantage to get Eric off guard would help the plan move along.

Scott wound the golden pendant around Kyle's throat, completing the illusion. "What do you think, 'Kyle'? Are you ready for the night of your life?" he purred.

Those green eyes glared at him, almost catching Scott off-guard for a moment.

"You're a dick, Scott," Sir Slave said coldly, folding his arms. That flat tone, that sassy dip of his hip - it was so uncanny.

Scott's lips pulled back into a harsh, toothy smile. "Perfect."

* * *

A major problem with Eric was that he do so loved theatrics, especially when it was about how awesome and right he was and everyone was flat out fucking wrong. Add his giant ego into it and it was going to be a complete recipe for disaster.

Stan knew this, but despite their return to the castle from the forest, he willingly accepted Eric's order to keep quiet about Kyle. There was no use riling up everyone until after Kyle's curse was broken. No one would have believed them anyways without actual proof.

That and they all knew Eric wanted to rub it in all of their faces that he _found_ Kyle - that he didn't give up and he had been absolutely right to trust in his gut. With Kyle at his side, Eric could smugly have every single jaw in the ballroom drop and that was _exactly_ how he wanted it to go. It was going to feel just like Christmas morning for the human prince.

A very confused Garrison almost walked into a servant the moment he witnessed Eric run around the castle like he was on drugs. For his subjects, this was the first time in the entire summer that Eric exhibited positive reinforcement since the tragedy. They certainly didn't expect Eric actually taking active interest in the arrangements for the opening ball later that night either, not when he actively avoided it for most of its inception.

But they didn't know the real reason. They didn't know that Eric was determined to make sure everything went perfectly. This was more than just showing off to prospective courtiers. He wanted to prove to Kyle that he could make this right again - that he can give him everything that he deserved.

Eric couldn't bring Kyle's father back, so his freedom would be the next best thing.

Liane had been in the midst of choosing a primary color for the undone ballroom when she was pulled into her son's arms and suddenly spun around in a strange waltz. Her confusion grew at the vivid smile on his face. She squeaked in alarm, witnessing firsthand what the others had told her.

He continued to beam at her like he just had a new lease on life - or perhaps he was just high on something like Garrison had told her earlier.

"Eric!" she squealed when he dipped her low. "What's gotten into you?!"

His response was bright and teasing. "What? Can't I dance with my beautiful mother?"

She melted at his boyish smile. "You certainly can, sweetie." When he finally pulled her back up so she could compose herself, she took in his strong posture and twinkle in his blue eyes. "What brought all of this on?"

"Must be the season approaching," he dismissed with a cute shrug. "That and I may have met someone. He's a total hottie, by the way."

Her eyes widened. "Already? Oh Eric… I'm so happy that…" she shook her head in continued disbelief, "…you're _happy_. Do I know the parents?"

Eric's smile turned crooked. "Maaaaybe. You'll see him at the ball. You might even be… _surprised_."

Liane pressed a hand against her chest in relief. Did Eric actually push his prejudices aside and found interest in one of the Mino'Rity royals currently housed in the city? It would certainly explain his constant disappearances the last week.

She had been worried sick when she heard Eric had been so preoccupied with the western forest the last couple of days. There had been no doubt in her mind that it had been a futile search for Kyle. Now that she realized it hadn't been the case, she was glad to see that Eric was finally moving on with his life.

"Well… whoever is making you smile again, I'm sure I'll love them," she promised, taking his hands into her's. She wanted to console him about Kyle - to tell him that she was sure Kyle would have wanted him to move on, but she didn't want to push her luck and draw back that depression again. The safest thing she could do was to encourage her support in his new mysterious romance.

His enthusiasm contagious, she eagerly gestured to the different colored palettes on the table. "Mackey has been telling me you've invested in what kind of music to play at your ball. Do you want to help me pick out a color as well, sweetie?"

He didn't even bother to look at the color swatch. "White. Like the moon."

Liane chuckled. "I think white is better suited for a _wedding_ , Eric."

Eric winked at her playfully and regretted it because his mother suddenly got weak at the knees and he quickly had to catch her swoon. "Goddammit… can someone get my mother a chair?"

"My gods…" she breathed, fanning her face as she was brought to sit by a frantic servant. "Are you… please don't tease, Eric! At least introduce him to me! What kind of mother meets her future son-in-law on the night of the engagement?!"

His laughter echoed throughout the busy ballroom.

* * *

All day Kyle sought to find a way out of the tower. He tried listening to the stone walls, but heard no weakness save for the sound of rushing water, which explained why the dirt floor was so muddy.

This particular tower was built right into the lake. Kyle shook his head and tried to micromanage his distress over the lack of light, air, _nature itself_ like last time. He only threw up once the first hour he was thrown in. That was a good sign at least.

Once he had transformed back into a stag by the morning sun, he didn't find himself as nauseous as he did before. Being an animal must have made him more immune than if he had been an elf again. The bars on the windows were much too high and tight for him to squeeze out of even as an elf and, while evening approached, Kyle even attempted to _dig_ his way out through the mud, but to no avail.

The second way out would be through the door - one which was too high up anyways. It was like Scott purposefully dug the room ten feet down in order to make Kyle especially suffer. He was doing a pretty damn good job of it, Kyle thought ruefully.

Exhausted from an entire day spent digging, Kyle didn't even react when the door opened. Scott walked across the lone plank high above the tower and playfully threw carnations at him.

"A little good luck present for your big night," Scott laughed, delighting in the look of defeat in Kyle's eyes and the many unsuccessfully dug ditches around him. Kyle was a fighter, he had to admit that.

With what little spark left, Kyle viciously stomped at the flowers with his hooves.

"Oh dear, you're mad at me again, aren't you? It seems nothing I do will ever reciprocate, will it? If you had only accepted my proposal to start with, none of this would have happened," Scott continued with a shrug. "Stubbornness must be the Jersey in you. I should know - I've dealt with one last time." That made Kyle look up. "Your mother was the same way too. It certainly helped in my defeat. But I got my revenge on her in the end. Do you know how?"

Scott knelt on the plank as if partaking in a very special secret. "Like you, I cursed her. If I could never see my kingdom again, she would never see her child's first breath. Of course, killing you at the same time would have been great too, but oh well. Can't be too greedy, I suppose."

Kyle's glare was murderous.

"Who'd have thought that destiny could be so kind - that I can murder an entire royal family one by one. Mommy, daddy…" He tilted his head. "Don't you have a little brother too, Kyle?"

Kyle reared back angrily, kicking at the cylindrical stone wall before jumping as far as he could to reach the dead son of a bitch. Scott simply laughed at Kyle's futile temper tantrum only to nearly fall off when the stag managed to clip the plank with his mighty antlers. When Kyle quickly gained momentum to reach the plank again, Scott managed to kick him in the muzzle, sending the cursed prince crashing back into the mud. Dazed, Kyle shook off the kick and snarled loudly through his teeth.

"Looks like there's still some fight in you after all, your grace," he laughed and shut the door behind him. The final sound of the lock made Kyle beat himself along the walls again in a mad attempt to get out, even when it was futile.

He couldn't give up! Not when they were so close! Kyle returned to his digging, forcing down the sob that threatened to escape his chest and snapped his hooves hard against the stone again. After a few futile minutes, Kyle slumped onto his belly, panting with exhaustion.

"My time has come at last," the Catatafish announced, appearing before him. "Prince Kyle, you must find a way out of this tower or you will surely die."

"I tried! There's no way out of this fucking shithole!" Kyle cried out. "I… fuck! I have to get out! What can I do?!"

The Catatafish was calm. "You will escape this tower through the lake, due to your good deeds throughout the forest. Do not let pride take away your victory, Prince Kyle. You have secured allies in many places."

Kyle's ears perked up in realization. "Can you… can we get someone to help?"

"We're already here!" An adorable chirp said up above. Kyle looked up and found the drunken peacock he saved along with an impressive set of quails sitting on the stone window frame.

"You helped us out so we're repaying the favor, young prince!" the peacock said proudly. "We've got your back!"

Then he heard the sound of digging beneath his hooves. From the pitiful hole he had been digging into popped out a mole, followed by a rush of water from the tunnel it dug to get to them. Kyle took a few cautious steps back as lake water began to slowly fill up the area.

"There's a weak spot through the stone here!" the mole said, pointing deep into the hole. "We've got turtles and all manner of aquatic creatures working at it, your highness!"

Kyle quickly started digging again. "Thanks guys!" Those fairytale princesses might be onto something having the power to call upon friendly neighborhood critters. He certainly wouldn't refuse their help.

Scott was on his way to hurt Eric. He wasn't going to get away with this. Not this time.


	16. Lovely, Enthralling, and All Unattached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brilliant, beguiling, the smiling brigade...

Peasants watched in droves from taverns and alleyways as the royal guard cleared the main roads. From clearing out stalls to chasing off vagabonds, Lord Mackey made sure the kingdom looked top to bottom magnificent in show off to their foreign visitors. News of Prince Eric's season reached all the way to the corners of Zaron itself. Every affordable magical mirror was tuned in to watch hundreds upon hundreds of carriages roll their way to the castle. Most of the populace hoped to cheer on their preferred royals like some kind of weird popularity contest.

Inside the _Giggling Donkey_ , the innkeeper proudly rigged a bootleg magic mirror to play what was transpiring at the castle, stealing its magical reception from a nearby noble's Mi-Fi hotspot. The picture kept wobbling off and on like distorted ripples, but it was enough to draw a sizable crowd.

Captain Donovan and his salty dogs were too busy splurging their riches on poker to bother, but Craig occasionally kept an eye out for any sign of Prince Token in the mirror, who had been forced to go as an eligible bachelor of his province.

"See our princely friend yet?" Clyde asked, his words mumbled around an expensive cigar between his teeth. He grinned at his winning hand and added thirty more gold coins to the table. One of the drunken men groaned at the raise and folded.

One down, two to go.

Denkins pulled off his hat and waved it over his face, feeling a bit under the weather from Clyde's raise. "I wouldn' bother watchin' until an hour in. It's just the opening number. You got worse things to deal with, boy - like me raisin' you forty gold pieces!"

Clyde scoffed and kicked his feet up. "Yer gonna regret losin' yer coin, farmer."

The anticipated crowd dispersed the moment the live feed was replaced with an ad for _Snacky Cakes - Royalty's own go-to snack_!

With a cool shrug, Craig returned with his tankard of ale. "It's just commercials," he drawled. Tweak started to have a fit as usual over the sad public service announcement for displaced gnomes and Craig found that it was much more entertaining that the pre-game show.

* * *

On the outskirts of the kingdom, Scott Malkinson made sure he had their own magic mirror running on the event, much to the Goths' displeasure.

"Man, fuck this," Michael said after a long drag. "I so don't need to watch a bunch of preppy royals make asses of themselves in front of the entire kingdom."

Pete flipped his bangs irritably, but sank into the couch anyways. "Yeah, like we give a shit about these conformist pricks and all the fucking glitz and glamour. Change the channel, Malkinson."

Scott hid the wand in his jacket. "Oh come on, guyths! Thiths iths a onths and a lifetime event! Pluths iths Friday and you thaid I can have the remote on Fridayths."

Henrietta flicked a bit of ash into Scott's popcorn bowl. "I can't wait to watch all these bitches in their Barbie doll gowns try to fit their frilled asses through the door. It's completely shallow and pedantic. Money grubbing whores and their rich daddies. They don't know true pain."

"My soul is on fire," Firkle whined.

* * *

Every young eligible noble was invited to not only witness the opening ball of Prince Eric's courting season, but to perhaps be the lucky lady or lord to catch his eye. In the last decade, Kupa Keep had been flourishing and even growing thanks to their new royal family, more than the Tenorman line could have ever expected. Marrying Eric would make for a very prosperous and powerful ally.

Not one invitation in Zaron had been rejected - save for the Drow Kingdom, who continued to mourn the passing of their royal family. There were also rumors that not all was brewing well in their so-called peaceful political sphere. With King Gerald deceased and his only heir presumably dead, the Broflovski clan was in the midst of civil conflict with the other Jewish tribes for control of the throne. The loss of their half-blooded prince also caused added stress between the Drow and Jersey, who the latter believed was a conspiracy to easily rid the elf throne of 'tainted' blood.

But they did not go without representation. Ranger Stan Marshwalker and Jimmy Valmer the Bard were the only two citizens remaining outside of the border and both were secretly determined to make sure Eric's plan of breaking Kyle's curse was successful. With the Drow Kingdom's blessing, they were allowed to act as delegates for the sake of the alliance.

As he finished buttoning up his best jacket for the ball, Stan stumbled upon Jimmy entertaining the few denizens of the library. He rested himself comfortably on a windowsill to strum at his lute.

"Have you been here all day, elven bard?" Stan said loudly to draw away suspicion. "The introductions will begin soon. Not one royal in Zaron is unaccounted for in this land."

Jimmy's response was through music, the chords hesitant and perhaps nervous, but so fluent and smooth. Stan sometimes wondered if Jimmy took up the lute to compensate for his horrible stutter.

Once the last of the scribes bid farewell to them, (not even _they_ were immune to the excitement going on in the hallways), Jimmy's playing ceased. "I've b-b-been reading up on Ku-Ku-Kupa K-Keep's litany of a-arcane spells. P-p-pre-prefeeh-preferably curses."

This was news to Stan. "You don't trust his highness' plan then?"

"D-do you?"

Good fucking point. "I've been thinking about it a lot. We've known Eric long enough, but you're right - if I had to choose between him and Kyle, there's not much hesitation," Stan admitted. "He's _our_ prince first and foremost. We should be leading an army right now to save Kyle - not drink and be merry while Kyle makes the journey on his own. What if Kyle doesn't arrive? What if his captor caught wind? There's too many holes in this plan."

"Kyle trusts Eric," a voice said from behind a bookshelf. Stan turned sharply to find Lady Kenny emerge in what looked to be a very flattering - and for once _expensive_ \- lavender dress.

Stan bowed to her, ever the gentleman. "You look radiant, my lady. And from what I've seen so far of our guests, not one holds a candle to such visage." She just looked so… _girly_ from what he was used to. It was nice.

Her smile was indulgent. "Oh Stan, hearing it from you makes my bosom quiver. Were it not for the short time we have, I would guide you to the nearest corner and let you have your way with me."

Jimmy snickered when Stan turned beet red. "W-well… don't let me be the thi-third w-w-w-wheel." He saddled his lute over his shoulders and grabbed his crutches. "T-there's not much seating for the ha-handicapped. When E-e-eric makes the vo-vo-v-vow, I want front row s-seating."

Kenny waited patiently for Jimmy to hobble out of sight before walking toward Stan. He stiffened when her gloved fingers ran up the fine, strong abs through his jacket. "Do you have a date to the ball, Stanley?"

His thoughts immediately drifted to Wendy, how little they were. They hadn't seen each other for almost a year, what with everything that had happened. The last he heard was her warmly accepting tokens of favors from some foppish revolutionary leader on some faraway continent. His tales of women's rights and compassion for the working class no doubt entranced her more than some random human ranger.

Prince Eric, unfortunately, had been right about their relationship from the get-go. That still kind of pissed Stan off. And there would be no doubt in his mind that she would be there herself as a participant anyways, unmarried as she was still. Regardless, he didn't think the romance between them did not and could not last. He was but a soldier and she royalty. His heart pained by the reality of the situation and perhaps it reflected in his gentle, compassionate frown at the moment.

"You will lead me as my companion, then," she purred, drawing him in with her unnatural violet eyes. "As a simple lady with little land, I have no qualms having a noble ranger's arms around me."

"I know what you're doing," Stan muttered, taking her wandering hands into his. "Your loyalty is to Prince Eric, just as mine is to Kyle's. The only difference is you're obligated to follow through with your prince's dumbass schemes."

Her gaze flashed dangerously when she leaned into him. "My loyalty matters little," Kenny purred against his ear, causing him to stiffen. "In fact, it could change just as easily… given the right incentive."

"Why am I not surprised?" Stan said dryly, gripping her shoulders much too tightly for a delicate maiden. "I suppose if I took you over a table you'd follow my lead then, easy as you are."

His threatening grip on her only heightened the pleasure. Kenny's dainty smile turned wolfish and she answered with a tiny coy moan. "And then some…" She pressed a long kiss against his jaw, leaving a bit of pink lipstick against his light stubble. "…but I have little to scheme about. Kyle trusts Eric, does he not? You have your loyalty and it's glorious and inspiring to behold, but you have very little faith in the men that you follow. Knowing Kyle all of your life, don't you believe he would fight every step of the way to see this through? Even _with_ Eric's scheming as the framework?"

His harsh grip on Kenny lessened as her words took root.

"You can't be Kyle's babysitter forever," she continued sweetly, "so trust in his abilities like Eric has. Enjoy the evening. Entertain a lonely soul."

They were so close to each other, he could feel her sweet breath against his lips. She squealed with delight when he suddenly grabbed her middle and squeezed.

"I think I'm starting to catch onto you," Stan's eyes narrowed. "You think you're so good at hiding it, but you can't fool me. You're way too happy about all of this when you know this could eventually turn to shit. It's like you're _gunning_ for something to happen."

"Of course I'm happy," she smiled. "Our best friends are going to get their happy ending."

He shook his head. "No… I think it's a bit more than that. I don't know what it is you're hoping for, but you said it yourself - you can change allegiances easy. You just seem… _off_ tonight. In a weird way. And I'm gonna get to the bottom of it sooner or later. I can promise you that."

The fierce look in his eyes literally made her melt. "Oh my," she moaned with delight. "A born leader to the end. You sure you don't fancy a jaunt between those bookshelves while your steel is struck hot?"

"Gods Kenny, you're so perverted," Stan sighed.

"Fucking duh."

* * *

"Mother…" Eric began, a tick in his eyebrow. "Did you give Big Queer Al the rite of introductions?"

Liane acted blissfully ignorant of her son's question and continued to hum in front of the mirror while the seamstresses did some last minute alterations on her gown. "Sweetie, Big Queer Al has always introduced our guests. I don't see why we would change it now."

He shirked away from his tailor, who started to complain and fuss trying to spin actual gold into his jacket with all of his movements. "Mom, remember my eighteenth birthday? He made it into a goddamned musical number that lasted the entire night!"

She tapped at her chin. "Oh but Eric, everyone was so entertained by it! The entire kingdom couldn't stop humming it for weeks afterwards!"

"Yeah, and no one paid attention to me the whole time!" he snarled in protest. "It was MY birthday party! We didn't even have time to set up the cake!" How the hell was he going to get the entire court to hear his vows when Big Gay Al's showstopping numbers were going to distract them the whole time?

"I'm sure he'll tone it down tonight." She turned around and smiled sweetly. "Now, you know how anticipated I become when you keep good secrets from me, sweetie! Promise me you'll point out the lucky young man as soon as he waltzes in!"

"Oh, you'll know," he promised before finally surrendering to his tailor. "You'll _definitely_ know."

There were two knocks before the door opened at Liane's invitation. Big Queer Al poked his head in and said cheerfully, "It's a full house, your majesties! Oh my, I can't stop the thumpity-thump of my heart - this is the biggest curtain call I've ever seen!"

"No fucking musicals, Al!" Eric warned over his shoulder. "I'm serious!"

Al flapped his wrist at the prince. "Oh, don't you worry, you silly goose! But what's a ball without a bit of _entertainment_?"

Eric's parting growl didn't faze the man the slightest and, when he popped away, Garrison entered as grim as ever.

"You do realize you're going to get an opening number whether you like it or not," Garrison drawled. "Big Queer Al had a casting call issued out two weeks in advance."

Liane pursed her lips in befuddlement. "That explains all those dress rehearsals the last few days."

"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT."

* * *

By the time Kyle and the woodland critters managed to dig a hole out big enough for him to fit, the lake water was nearly halfway up to his neck. He lowered his antlers to the waterlogged moles.

"Hang on!" Kyle warned, making sure the moles hung on tight to his points. He took in a deep breath before diving down, struggling through the hole and kicked off from the lake floor for momentum. He swam as fast as his legs could to reach the surface before they all ran out of air.

Kyle gasped out the moment they broke the surface and awkwardly tried to dog paddle over to land. He staggered and shook the excess water off viciously from his fur after the moles jumped off. "Thanks again!" he panted.

"Any time!" they chorused and scattered off.

The Frog King and Sparrow Prince materialized next to Catatafish. "Go now, Prince Kyle! Stop the evil lord and break your spell!"

"Oh, I'm gonna do more than that," Kyle growled, already fantasizing the many ways of torturing Scott to death. He started to run, then stopped to say over his shoulder. "And um… thanks."

"Perhaps your actions will do us the same favor one day," the Sparrow Prince parted. "Remember, Prince Kyle! If the curse isn't broken in time, you must return to the lake at all costs!"

He didn't need any more incentive. Kyle quickly breached the weakened barrier - another stupid oversight from Scott and his overconfidence. It was already nightfall and the lights from the castle were overblown and inviting.

Like a ghostly apparition, a dark stag and doe emerged from the shadows and quietly followed the unassuming prince's heels.

Overlooking the western forest was a wooden cottage. Its participants had no business attending any royal extravaganza as usual, so they simply had their own mini celebration of ale while watching the soft hue of magical light bounce against the walls of the castle.

Uncle Jimbo was very much drunk and bitter. After all, his nephew was allowed to partake in the fancy schmancy festivities despite the fact that his father was a no-good bleeding heart traitor to humankind. He still never got over Randy picking up and leaving with his family for the elf kingdom, but he never really blamed it on Stan. The irony that he was an overzealous hunter while Stan was a passionate defender of animals was not lost on him. Doubled by the ban from hunting for the stag that outwitted them, Jimbo was _definitely_ not a happy camper the past few days.

While nursing his eighth cup of moonshine on the porch, he overheard a great sound of hooves pounding through the open field nearby. He nearly spilled his tankard kicking open the door. "Hey Ned! I think it's our stag! And this time I don't think it's a false alarm!"

"You - said - that - last - time - too," Ned mumbled before picking up the spyglass anyways. When he retreated out the front door, he found Jimbo pointing excitedly at the field where a great crimson stag made a beeline for the castle.

"By the gods, Ned! Am I right? It's not an elk again, is it?"

Ned looked through his spyglass. "It - looks - like - the - stag."

"It looks like the same one alright!" Jimbo said excitedly. "Hold on a sec…" he peered over, a hand over his eyes. "He's got a herd! Do you see that?"

Just a few meters behind their prized stag looked to be an older deer and a doe. Jimbo's mouth started to water at the thought of fresh venison for the next month. "You think we got a resurgence on our hands, Ned? Why maybe in the next few years we can have a new deer population for the kingdom!" He grabbed a crossbow under his rocking chair. "Welp, we wouldn't want that to happen. Then that stag's head won't be so valuable anymore. Let's kill it!"

For some reason, Kyle was suddenly 'nudged' forward, but he didn't remember the wind pushing from that particular direction. Whatever it was he was lucky because he managed to miss an arrow that nearly got him in the ass.

Kyle looked to his left and forced down a sigh.

He didn't have time to play with the two worst but best hunters in Kupa Keep. So when he quickly jumped over a wooden fence belonging to a farm and darted out of sight, he didn't notice the strange deer behind him pull away to charge at the hunters.

Jimbo shouted in terror and nearly missed getting gouged again by the darker stag's great antlers. "Grab an ax, Ned!"

But Ned was too preoccupied with the red-tinged doe, who was determined to dislodge his entire ass with her painful headbutts. "Ah - help - my - ass!"

"Just what kind of deer are these?!" Jimbo howled, but after a blink the stag and doe vanished, leaving them horribly confused and wondering if they simply had too much moonshine tonight.

* * *

With Lady Kenny wrapped coyly around his arm, Stan could only cringe at the sight of Big Queer Al putting Eric smack dab in the middle of the room while he announced a little entertainment number for the audience. "Gods, this is going to be so embarrassing."

"I personally think Big Queer Al's songs are amazing! Especially the one where it goes do-dodo-do-do~" Butters gushed nearby. Unlike Stan, Butters wasn't allowed to have a date because he was a paladin, but plenty of ladies were happily attracted to his bright and innocent personality. They hovered around him like his own wonderfully dressed bodyguards sighing and agreeing with everything he said.

Eric's eyebrow ticked so much in the middle of the ballroom, he was pretty sure it was going to be permanent. Everyone was looking at him and whispering while Big Queer Al dimmed all the lights. All of a sudden, a gaggle of sparkly covered men and women appeared and danced in unison along to the orchestra.

"To our beloved Prince Eric and his oh so exciting opening ball for his season! Do you think you've got what it takes to steal our big guy's heart?" Big Gay Al patted Eric's stomach for good measure. Fucking A. Now Eric was _seriously_ getting pissed off.

"Well, I'll have you know…" Big Queer Al threw away his regular fuchsia jacket, revealing a loud sparkling number that matched the dancers.

"Don't you fucking dare!" Eric hissed. Al ignored him.

_**♪ HE'S SINGLE! THANKS FOR ASKING!** _

_**ALL THINGS CONSIDERED I THINK IT'S TIME TO GET HIM LAID! ♫** _

"I SAID NO MUSICAL NUMBERS!" Eric screamed over the loud music.

_**♪ HE'S SUPER SINGLE! NO HE'S GOT NO RING!** _

_**IF YOU'RE LUCKY YOU MIGHT DOWN HIS ROYAL- DON'T YOU THINK I LOOK CUTE IN THIS FROCK?! ♫** _

"Okay, this _is_ kind of catchy," Stan admitted, bouncing his head and clapping with the others along to the quirky music.

Before Eric could stomp over and actually tear off Al's head, he was grabbed by two grinning showmen and forced to the front of the grand staircase. His eyes bulged at the long line of showcased princes and princesses that were waiting to be introduced by _song_.

"Oh. my. God." It was his eighteenth birthday all over again. He might just cry.

Liane weaved her fingers together happily. "Oh how marvelous! Al did such an amazing job! And Eric looks so handsome!"

"I personally feel sorry for that poor bastard," Garrison replied with a dry grin.

_**♪** **This exotic princess comes from Mino'Rity's province of Harlem, where they're athletic and passionate is inspiring to all! Witty and sweet, her bright enthusiasm could only be surpassed by the sun itself! Oh, isn't she just a doll?! ♫**_

An lovely dark skinned girl with a permed afro sheepishly offered her hand to Eric. He almost didn't recognize Princess Nichole - the last time he had seen her was years ago when she flirted with Kyle.

With a slight vindictive smile, he took her hand and spun her into the arms of the only black guy in attendance. Arms full of the princess, Prince Token glared at Eric. Racist fuck.

 _You're welcome_ , Eric mouthed cruelly before waiting for the next candidate.

_**♪** **Lord Pip Pirrup comes from… well we're not too sure but he's got a nice fancy cape so we let him in Cinderella-style! Perhaps he's nouveau riche, we don't know! But he sure is adorable, isn't he? ♫**  _

Eric irritatingly blew at the stray brown bang on his forehead. He had already manhandled five princesses, six countesses, and the occasional rich twink. Apparently, his mother just let _anyone_ in these days. He retracted his hand from the extremely thin young man who smelled like fire and brimstone. "Gross. You smell like bacon. I don't want to date a French pig."

"I'm not French!" Pip piped up nervously. "I'm English!"

"You're also marked by the _damned_ you poor unfortunate bastard," Eric drawled, using his magical sense to point out the pentagram mark beneath the boy's fancy jacket and against his breast. "I'm not stupid enough to screw around with a demon's property. Now beat it, Frenchy!"

Pip desperately tried to grab Eric's jacket. "Oh no! Please reconsider! I need true love's kiss to break this curse!"

Eric let out a cruel bark of laughter. "Pfft, sorry Cinderfella, but I really don't give a shit. I've already got another prince on my ass about that. Find another one." When Pip wouldn't let go, Eric snapped his fingers and had his guards escort the cursed young man out.

It was just another fairytale crossing with his. They didn't need all that clutter right now.

* * *

Michael tilted his head with mild curiosity as they watched Pip being dragged and thrown out of the castle. "Hey, isn't that Damien's new possession?"

"He needs to keep a tighter leash on him," Henrietta noted before reaching into a sack of potato chips.

"Should we call-" Pete's question was answered the moment Pip suddenly screamed. The ground had opened beneath him and he was sucked into the hellish hole of lava and the screeching of the damned. He flipped his bangs back nonchalantly. "-nevermind."

"Pass the dip," Firkle whined at Scott.

* * *

Wendy huffed by Stan's side. "Ugh, this is so demeaning! This isn't a ball, it's an _auction house_!"

He jumped in alarm. "Wendy?!"

"Oh, hi Stan," she chirped then matched glares with Kenny, whose grip on Stan's arm was a possessive vice-like clamp. "I see you've got a date. That's cool, I guess."

Stan cleared his throat awkwardly, but Wendy didn't seem to hear it. She was too busy watching Eric bitch up a storm when the Third Princess of Canada queefed in his vicinity. "Yeah well, Lady McCormick's been my friend for years!" he said defensively.

Kenny pressed her bosom enticingly against Stan's arm and purred. "Not friends with benefits? Because I remember the benefit of us playing healer behind the tapestry."

"Stan!" Wendy exclaimed angrily.

"She's joking!" he spluttered. "We really didn't -"

His words died from his lips from Wendy's mutinous glare before she was pulled by her subjects to the end of the line. Stan shot Kenny a very exasperated look, which only made her smile beam brighter. When Wendy was finally announced and pushed forward, all Eric did was double over with hysterical laughter before she growled in humiliation and stomped away.

"Fat asshole!" Wendy snapped over her shoulder.

"Hippy bitch!" Eric shot back and gave her the finger. "Put a ring on this!"

Garrison flashed a very dry look at Liane. "You think I can drink enough to get me wasted tonight? I'm no oracle, but I have a sneaking premonition your son's gonna give us more enemies than allies by the end of the night. I figured alcohol poisoning would be the gentlest way to go."

Liane sighed.

One after another, Eric's mood just continued to plummet. The song just kept going on and on and the longer the night went, the more concerned he was about Kyle. Just where the fuck was he? Did he really fuck up and get in trouble by that asshole? He should never have left Kyle there, but what choice did they have?

Once the introductions ended, Big Queer Al threw up one last grand spectacle that included magical fireworks and flips by the showmen and women that was actually pretty impressive choreography. The crowd screamed and cheered for the show so at least something good came out of it. Anxiety finally hit Eric once the long introductions finally came to an end. Kyle wasn't here - and his mother kept giving him speculative looks in the hopes of revealing the mystery gentleman he had fussed about all day.

Stan looked just as anxious as Eric was. His own eyes darted hopelessly around and then, with a frustrated glare, gestured Eric to come over so they can talk this over. But before Eric could head over to Stan and the others, there was a knock on the door so loud that everyone fell into silent confusion. Liane offered a shrug at Al before silently urging him to answer the door.

"Oh dear, oh my!" Al muttered under his breath before smiling and reassuring the crowd. "It's okay, lovelies! Just a fashionably late guest, you know how those are!"

Few people chuckled. Straightening his suit, Al hesitantly stood to the side as the guards opened the double doors. His eyes widened in horror. "Oh… oh my stars!"

Eric took a step forward, his heart beating fast when Al couldn't help but step aside not out of respect, but absolute fear and shock. The low rumble of conversation drew itself into a horrified hush when the last guest entered.

Their crowned prince, on the other hand, could only sigh in relief and grin. "About fucking time… _Kyle_."


	17. A Vow to Break All Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You should have left him to me...

Adorned in black, Prince Kyle smoothly stepped through the doors. He paused, sized Al up for a long moment before indulging him with a very sultry wink. What was left of the silence instantly died, leaving only the sound of urgent whispers as he made his way down the grand staircase.

Garrison's eyes widened at the missing prince, looked at his half drunk flute of wine, then back at Kyle. "Oh my God… did I finally succumb to alcohol poisoning and died?"

Liane cupped her hands to her mouth, trying her hardest to not hyperventilate at the sight of the deceased prince. "No… no it can't be!" she stuttered out. "It can't…!"

On the other side of the coin, Stan finally exhaled in relief. Kyle just managed to arrive to the ball in the nick of time. Kenny pursed her lips at the strange color swap of Kyle's outfit, but made no comment about it.

Eric's sour expression throughout the entire ball melted away. He quickly bridged the distance to meet Kyle halfway at the base of the staircase. "Kyle…" he began, offering him such a heartwarming smile that Kyle couldn't help but return back. "I was worried as shit you wouldn't make it!"

Kyle's eyebrow raised. "You're joking, right? Nothing could keep me away."

Of course it wouldn't. This was _Kyle_. Eric snapped his fingers at the orchestra for attention. Once the music began, he offered Kyle his hand just like once upon a time.

Instead of the usual hesitation and suspicion, Kyle boldly took it. He made little fuss pressing into Eric's personal space, his hands sliding up his arms and over his shoulders with a confidence and possession Eric had never seen before from him.

Screwing down his confidence, Eric pulled Kyle in step for a waltz regardless of whether anyone would join them or not. He really couldn't give a shit either way - all that mattered was that Kyle was here. Eric was going to make sure he didn't fuck up this night like last time.

And this was more than just a trophy to rub in front of everyone's faces. He wanted Kyle to know that he was wanted and that Eric wasn't afraid to treat him like a lover - something that he sorely sucked at the last, what, thirteen years? Tonight, he was going to convince the world that Kyle was the only one he wanted to spend the rest of his short miserable life with.

But the way Kyle moved with him puzzled Eric. During their first (and almost last) dance, they had rocked together so perfectly in sync it overwhelmed everything else. Now? Eric wondered if Kyle was still angry with him about what happened. Or maybe he still didn't trust him to do the correct thing.

Either of these reasons had merit. He just couldn't point out why Kyle didn't _fit_ in his arms like last time. Eric shook his head. This was nitpicking. This shit didn't matter.

Everything had to be absolutely perfect.

* * *

The patrons in the _Giggling Donkey_ fell silent at the dramatic reveal through the magic mirror.

"Holy shit!" Clyde exclaimed, dropped his cigar in surprise and then yelped when the lit end burned his winning hand.

"Looks like they found him," Craig drawled out the obvious. "I like his black jacket."

As Clyde flailed, several key cards slipped from his coat sleeve and onto the table. Noticing this, Trent Boyett nearly knocked the table over grabbing Tweek by the scruff of his jacket. "You tryin' to cheat us, buttpirate?" the blond man hissed.

"Ack! I didn't do n-nothing!" Tweek freaked out.   

Trent squeezed his jacket even tighter, causing Tweek to shake in terror. Craig raised his eyebrow at the mistreatment before returning to his ale.

"Now, come on! I would never…!" Clyde retorted with a grin, raising his palms up in surrender for Tweek's sake. "Cheating the man that could break me crew's spine like a breadstick? Why tha' would be suicide! Or murder. These cards came from me other game this afternoon!"

Denkins got up and pointed the sharp end of his crossbow at Clyde's throat. "I dunno what brain-dead coastal saloon you frequent, but we don't take kindly to cheaters around here, Mister Donovan."

"It's CAPTAIN Donovan, if you must," Clyde replied, scoffing as poor Tweek was being lifted off his feet. "Uh… Tucker? A little help here?"

His prayers weren't really answered but Craig did turn around and tossed one of his knives straight into Trent's hand. Trent howled in pain, dropped Tweek in the process, and knocked the entire table along with their winnings all over the floor. The entire tavern quickly devolved into a mass frenzy for the gold pieces rolling around.

Tweek jumped over the bar to hide. "T-thanks, man!"

"Any time," Craig replied before leaning back into his seat and finishing off his ale. An old fashioned tavern brawl quickly commenced but Craig was much too busy going back to the magic mirror to bother with Clyde's shrieking to join the fight.

* * *

During the musical number, Jimmy had zipped away out the back with a couple of other bards. Seeing as their services wouldn't be needed with an orchestra in use, they shared a pipe out in the courtyard and began the usual barter and trading of ballads. Curious to learn more about Kupa Keep's previous history, Jimmy specifically asked around about certain abandoned castles in forests.

Only one older gent seemed to take his question seriously while the others laughed. "Oh shut up, ye morons! The elf asked a good question - and e's right. We actually _did_  'ave an extra castle in the forest," he admitted. The bards fell into an interested hush. "But it was way before yer time, elf. 'Ells, way before 'er majesty took the throne as Queen. I've never seen it personally, but I've often 'eard tales from my father. The last ruling monarch used it as a summer 'ome. Real pretty - probably nicer than the castle itself! With a nice man made lake overlooking it. 'E built it as a wedding gift for 'is wife. Their own little escape away from 'ome."

Jimmy handed the pipe over and feigned ignorance. "W-who were the l-l-last rulers?"

"The Tenorman family ruled for many generations," One bard with a mustache piped up. "It all went to shit when King Jack and his wife died though. They were decent folk - never raised the taxes if they could help it. But the son they left behind? A _reaaaaal_ shit head. Treated his subjects like dirt and nearly ran the kingdom's coffers to the ground funding archaeological quests for ancient magical treasure… or so they say."

The older man nodded. "Oh yea, _that_ I remember. Prince Scott was a very power 'ungry man. Powerful too - even on 'is own. Until of course 'e was bested in a magical duel by 'is own bastard brother. 'E was just a wee little lass at the time too."

"The high priests of Radiohead say it was ordained by God. That's why Prince Eric was powerful enough to thwart his kin decades older than him," the youngest bard commented.

"Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't," a female other bard added. "Maybe Prince Eric is just naturally powerful. It's not uncommon to hear of legendary sorcerers exhibit powerful magic at a young age. I don't know how elf children work, but they say magical human children can remember things earlier than the average lad or lass. Like, even from the _moment_ of their birth. It's pretty creepy if you ask me."

Jimmy blinked. "T-that would explain w-w-why Prince Eric re-re-remembers so m-much." He never asked the human prince, but Kyle had always been sensitive talking about Eric's past the last couple of years now. Eric harbored such negativity towards his brother it had to be personal. 

"And of course, power means everything in Kupa Keep. Getting bested by a toddler wouldn't exactly be the 'ighlight of yer story, tha's for sure," the old bard continued. "The 'Igh Priests declared Prince Scott unfit ter ascend the throne and made 'is 'alf-brother 'eir instead. And that, as we say, is 'istory."

Jimmy tilted his head. "And w-w-what happened to Prince Sc-Scott?"

"Well, 'e did try ter reclaim 'is kingdom," the man admitted. "'E had an army at 'is beck an' call, magically created by some artifact 'e stole from a far away kingdom. That's when the Jersey woman trounced his arse and kept it fer herself. Yer elf queen, I wager."

"Q-Q-Queen Sheila?"

The bard slapped his knee and pointed. "That's the one! Your elf queen, God rest 'er poor soul. And what a fuckin' mess Scott created. If it weren't for 'im, Kupa Keep and the elves wouldn't have joined together to stop 'im. And when they did, they say 'e disappeared into seclusion, perhaps living in that empty summer 'ome he once spent with 'is parents. Getting yer ass whooped by a toddler and an angry pregnant woman would ruin any man's military career, I say. E's better off being a no-name if ye ask me."

Jimmy was unnaturally silent for a moment while the bards started strumming their instruments and admired the atmosphere of magical lights dancing into the night.

"Tis a shame the Queen set the ball at such a lousy night," the female bard observed, her fingers plucking lazily at his lute. "T'would have been a more romantic scene for the fair maidens if there was a moon out."

No moon? Jimmy searched the skies himself and, much to his surprise, they were correct.

It was a new moon tonight.

_Once the moonlight leaves the lake I'll turn back into a stag!_

"O-o-h g-god-gods…" Jimmy stuttered out and nearly tripped over the female bard with his crutches on his way back inside the kitchens. "I n-n-n-neee- I neeeheee…"

"Crippled elf coming through!" A very drunk chef yelled as Jimmy had no care tripping over waiters and sous chefs on the way out the door and into the ballroom. He nearly face planted onto the slick marble floor from all the congestion.

By the time he made it out into the ballroom, slow music was playing but everyone was in a tight ring around the dance floor instead of dancing. Jimmy used the power of his disability to push some of them aside long enough to witness the reason for their strange stillness.

Prince Eric and Prince Kyle were the only ones dancing, completely absorbed with each other.

"B-b-buh… bu-but…" The curse had dictated that Kyle was to remain a stag without the moon around. Why was he back to normal? Did Eric break the curse and Jimmy just simply missed it?

That was when he noticed a flicker of magical smudge with every step Kyle took. Jimmy narrowed his eyes and, using his elvish perception, found something horribly wrong with this picture.

Instead of Kyle, he was watching a forty-something year old man with a mustache dancing with Eric. His eyes widened. "O-o-oh n-n-n-!"

The words he tried to shout were entangled by his stuttering and the people around him were already at the end of their patience for the handicapped elf. They shushed him angrily until he had no choice but to find Stan and tell him instead.

On the other side of the ballroom, Mackey was trying his best to fetch tissues for the crying queen, who could only stand there and watch as her son danced with an almost forgotten memory.

"Well fuck me sideways, his highness was right," Garrison had no problem stating the obvious while downing his drink. "I bet you feel fucking foolish."

Liane could only shake her head, unable to stop the joyous tears rushing down her cheeks and ruining her make up. "Kyle's alive… and Eric _found_ him." _That_ was why Eric looked so alive yesterday. His mad search for answers and his stubbornness earned him back his true love. It was so unbelievable she was sure their story would be told and retold for many generations to come.

The more Eric danced with Kyle, the more he couldn't shake off how weird it felt. It was like Kyle was here physically, but not really. That intangible spark that burned unflinchingly in the many years they've known each other just wasn't there anymore. His brow furrowed. He couldn't have fallen _out_ of love, could he? "Did… did you have any problems leaving the lake?"

"None whatsoever," Kyle replied with a smile. "What's wrong? You're not going to fuck up again, are you?"

Eric bristled. "No! It's just…" He frowned in such a way that Kyle found adorable. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just fucking antsy - it just seems so easy. And it's just… I don't know. God, I must sound like a fucking idiot, don't I? You're here, we're together, I gotta get a hold of myself."

Kyle looked down at his outfit. "Well, I'm wearing black this time. That the problem?" The hand on Eric's shoulder ran down his chest, leaving the human prince to hitch his breath as Kyle's fingers slipped between the lapels of his coat to brush against his abdomen. The Kyle he knew had no problem gloating in the past that elves were virgins on principle until they settled down with a life mate. Eric had been so sure that Kyle was not only unfamiliar but uncomfortable with sexual contact - especially in public. He definitely had a few choice words to say when they caught Stan and Wendy fooling around at one point. 

Finding Kyle act so seductive was hot - well fuck yeah - but this was really fucking _odd_. "You look really fucking hot in black," Eric admitted with a tentative grin. "I just didn't know you had that kind of color in your wardrobe. For _funerals_ maybe…"

"Maybe I just want to look good for you. Ever thought of that?" Kyle purred, slipping close enough to whisper heat into his ear. "All that time spent hanging around like a prisoner made me super seriously horny."

Eric swallowed hard. "Well goddamn Kyle what the fuck happened to the 'waiting til marriage' shit you've been shoving down my throat for years now?" he teased, hoping that sliding into their usual banter would fix this unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. "You're saying all I had to do was lock you up like a prisoner until you got all hot for me? Kinky ass Jew."

His uncertainty ran full force when Kyle didn't react nor get pissed off by his words. Instead, he stopped in mid turn to pull out the pendant from his pocket and dangle it in front of Eric.

"Don't worry…" Kyle reassured him instead. "After tonight, everything's going to be perfect."

With a small grin of defeat, Eric clasped the gold chain around Kyle's neck. His eyes fluttering with discontent, Kyle let out a tiny wince as hot metal suddenly burned against the skin around his throat. Fortunately for him, Eric did not notice.

"You're right. I'm just fucking nervous, but I won't fuck up, Kyle. Not this time." Eric waved to the conductor. "Stop the music! I have something to say!"

The orchestra came to an abrupt end. As the guests politely applauded, Eric wrapped an arm around Kyle's slim middle and pulled him close to his side where he belonged. "You ready?" Eric whispered with anticipation.

Kyle smiled knowingly and slid his cheek coyly against Eric's broad shoulder. "You don't know how ready."

* * *

The real Kyle felt himself winding down from exhaustion as he continued to gallop as fast as he could to the castle. Most if not all of the townspeople were locked up in their homes to watch the event from their magic mirrors, leaving the streets empty and deprived of life. No one caught a glimpse or made noise about a random stag sprinting towards the castle gate.

And the guards flanking the portcullis were too busy with their own portable mirrors, making it easy for Kyle to dodge them and end up in the courtyard without much trouble. He finally stopped, bent down his head, and started heaving great gulps of air before he keeled over from exhaustion.

"Hah… hah…" Kyle gasped. From the closest grand window, he could see a group of people standing around in the ballroom. Stumbling a bit, Kyle went from window to window to see what was going on inside until he found a great vantage point near the servants' quarters.

From beyond one of the large windows, Kyle watched in horror as Eric led his doppelganger down the ballroom, unaware of Sir Slave's true form. His energy rekindled, Kyle reared back and quickly sought an open window or door to enter, regardless of disrupting or alerting the guards.

"Come on, Eric… don't fuck this up," Stan muttered, watching as Eric began his speech. He yelped when Jimmy crashed into him and he quickly grabbed Kenny before she tripped over his splayed crutches.

"Aww… Jimmy! Just because you're crippled doesn't mean you can run over anyone you please!" Stan chastised, only to become alarmed by how breathless Jimmy was as he desperately clutched at his jacket. "Jimmy? Are you okay?"

Eric's voice carried over the anticipated crowd. "Royals from all over Zaron…" he turned warmly to Liane, who started to tear up again. "…and mother. I've got an important announcement to make. Sorry to disappoint you gold digging assholes wanting a taste of Kupa Keep, but I've already found my bride."

He shot a look at Kyle, hoping that he'd snap at the term. To his disappointment, he didn't react the slightest - Kyle simply continued with his vapid smile.

Jimmy looked ready to hyperventilate. "Ahjd-bued-i-t's n-no-no-nn-ot his high-higehheeneeh…!"

"Slow down, Jimmy! You know we can't understand you when you get too excited," Stan frowned, unsure why the elf kept pointing desperately to one of the starlit windows then back at the couple on the dance floor.

Butters cocked his head curiously before rubbing down Jimmy's back. "Take super big breaths, Jimmy! You can do it, buddy! Inhale and exhale!"

Kyle darted from window to window, testing the frames with his antlers before galloping straight down to the servants quarters again. It magically shut and locked before Kyle could get through and, realizing that Scott was behind all of this, he returned to the windows hoping to catch anyone's attention instead. He turned around and tried to rear-kick the glass in the hopes of it breaking and alerting someone, but it was magically reinforced with magic. Kyle was nowhere near to breaking it as a butterfly could. 

"I present this man to you as a future ruler of a powerful kingdom," Eric continued, gesturing to the elf attached to his arm. "But not just his kingdom, no, _both_ of our kingdoms. Tonight, you're witnessing the beginning of an alliance this land has never seen before. With our kingdoms as one, we are unstoppable. We are powerful. But this isn't a speech brought on for the sake of politics. No, I want you all to know that this man at my side is my equal in every way. And as proof of not just my allegiance to him - but something more, I'll make the vow that he deserves, that he's been waiting thirteen years for."

Catching the stag watching in the corner of his eye, Slave quickly nudged Eric a bit by snuggling his shoulder, stealing his attention for a brief moment. It was successful, forcing Kyle to run around the castle again a second time.

"A vow to break all vows. A vow stronger than all the powers of the Earth!" Eric grinned when Slave gazed up in awe. Those green eyes glimmered with interest when Eric pulled the Stick of Truth from his belt. "Before you…" Eric said softly to him before looking to the crowd. "Before the whole world…"

Kyle desperately charged for a way into the basement and tried to stomp out the iron-clad lock. In the meantime, Jimmy's blabbering was growing loud enough to distract the entire section.

"N-n-no-no MO-M-M-M-M!"

"No mom?" Butters guessed helpfully.

Stan made a face. "Who's mom?"

"Moo?" Kenny snickered.

"MO-OOO-M-MOON!" Jimmy managed to snarl out. "NO MOON! FUCKING LISTEN TO ME! _NO MOON!_ " 

Kenny stiffened, looked back to the window, and then back at man wrapped around Eric's arm. "Oh… _shit_."

He didn't need any more incentive putting Jimmy's reasoning together. Stan immediately started shoving people away in his haste to reach Eric. "Prince Eric!" he shouted, but Eric was so far up his own asshole he couldn't bother hearing him. It didn't help that the royals around them were making it their mission to shush their antics.

Unable to find an entrance anywhere into the castle, Kyle could only return to the window and watch helplessly while Eric fucked up a second time - even if it wasn't his fault.

"ERIC!" he shouted desperately through the window, though all anyone would ever hear would be the distressed sounds from an animal.

"I make a vow of everlasting love to my best friend, my best enemy, the soldier by my side," Eric concluded proudly, handing the Stick of Truth over to its rightful owner. "I love you, babe. I really do. And I'm sorry it took us this long to get there."

Slave tentatively took the Stick and looked down in mild shame, touched by a vow that didn't belong to him and never would. "Jesus…" he whimpered. "Jesus Christ…"

From beyond the window, Kyle swallowed down his distress. Why should he? Not when he was absolutely touched by Eric's sincerity, even when they were meant for the imposter. He had done it. "Finally…" he whispered brokenly through his smile. "That's _exactly_ what I wanted to hear, you son of a bitch…" But his pride didn't last. He suddenly doubled over, feeling like something invisible was squeezing his heart, stealing his breath.

"Ugh…" Kyle panted, fear gripping him like a vice as he found himself unable to inhale enough air to keep himself from feeling light-headed. He tripped over his own legs, his fall broken by the soft grass. Something was wrong with him. It was like he was back in that stone prison again just fading away - except this was accelerated.

Then it hit him like freezing water. Was he… dying?

* * *

A sharp cold wind extinguished all of the candles in the ballroom before the crowd could cheer in congratulations. Every single window, once barred, was thrown open by the same force of unnatural wind. Royals started shrieking in alarm, but most of the guards had been quietly dispatched just the way he wanted it, leaving them at the mercy of whoever decided to crash the party.

The main doors were the last to be thrown open, revealing a man in a heavy black cloak that rustled dramatically in the wind.

"I can't believe that was so fucking easy!" The cloaked man laughed. "I knew you were dumb as shit Eric, but I thought _you_ might have been a bit suspicious from my manservant's horrible acting!"

Liane recognized that voice. Despite Mackey and Garrison determined to guard her, she stepped forward. "That voice… Scott?"

Eric instantly stiffened.

"Evening to you too, whore. It's been a while hasn't it?" Scott snarled and pulled down his hood. "But where are your manners? I seem to remember being called _Prince Scott_ in these very walls."

"You lost that right when you became a little butthole, Scott," Garrison replied, idly swishing the drink between his fingers. "And I see your wilderness retreat is doing well for you. Your hair looks a bit thinner these days though."

Scott grinned nastily at his former mentor. "Oh, good old Lord Garrison - always having a sharp witty quip to save the day. Tell me, have you finally accepted the fact that you enjoy taking it up the ass or are you still channeling it through your drinking instead?"

"Well that's just fucking uncalled for, _Prince_ Scott," Garrison snorted.  

The former prince shook his hands dramatically. "Oh, no. I'm not a prince anymore like you said. Perhaps… King Scott would be a better alternative? Yes, I daresay I can call myself that now. And we all have the fatso here to thank, don't we Eric?"

"You no longer have power here, asshole!" Eric roared, his magical aura flaring up. "And you no longer have control over Kyle! I made the vow of everlasting love! You lose!"

Scott lazily gestured to Slave. "Oh, you made a vow alright. A vow of everlasting death…!"

With a snap of magic, Kyle turned back into Sir Slave, who was all too glad to throw off the pendant and squeeze at the burn mark around his throat. "Oh…" he groaned weakly. "Jesthus Christh…"

Eric recoiled in disgust from Slave. "What the fucking fuck?!"

With a flick of Scott's hand, both the Stick and the pendant returned to where it truly belonged - in his possession.

"The Stick of Truth!" Stan exclaimed angrily. "He tricked us for the Stick!"

"You should have just forgotten about him," Scott said, catching the Stick and examining it with an excited glint in his eyes. It's been so long since he's had his hands on this old relic. "At the very least, he wouldn't be dying. That matters little anymore. I've no use for Kyle anymore now that the Stick is in my possession."

"No!" Slave shouted desperately. "You said you wouldn't hurt Kyle!"

"I lied, you fucking buffoon!" Scott said coldly. "And now that I have the Stick, I've got no use for your faggot ass either!" He gestured to one of the windows where Kyle was already halfway out of the courtyard, desperately trying to cling to life like the sucker he was. "Maybe if you're lucky Eric, you can catch him long enough to say your goodbyes." 

Eric's head snapped in the direction of Kyle's retreat, his heart plummeting straight into his stomach at what he had done. "Kyle!" Humiliation and fury overwhelming any reason he had left, Eric jumped at Scott like a rabid animal intending to tear his throat out.

The bastard disappeared in a puff of smoke before Eric could get his hands around him, his laughter echoing throughout the castle. Before Liane could protest, Eric staggered out the front doors and grabbed a horse. Stan and the others scrambled just behind, but Eric was already out of the portcullis and through the town.

_Hurry, hurry, little brother!_ Scott's voice echoed through the forest. _With every breath he loses, I gain in strength!_

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, GODDAMMIT!" Eric snarled to the sky and, when his horse refused to go any farther due to exhaustion, he furiously threw himself off the useless animal and started running through the forest on foot, uncaring about his lungs straining from the effort.

* * *

The moment after Eric made the vow, Kyle continued to become weak and lethargic like his energy was slowly trickling away like sand through an hourglass. In his delirious state, he remembered what the Frog King told him and made a very clumsy run back.

"We can prolong your life, Prince Kyle!" The Prince Sparrow appeared in mid-flight by his side. "But you must land in the water! The Catatafish will be there!"

Kyle couldn't even muster a nod as he half-sprinted, half-stumbled back to the lake. But for every step of his hooves, it seemed like his time was becoming shorter. He even wasn't aware of how quickly he was returning to the forest. It was like something was bringing the wind to his sails.

Or maybe the prospect of death gave him the adrenaline rush to hurry back.

For a delirious moment, he thought he heard someone call out to him to keep moving after he tripped over a log and didn't have the strength to get up anymore.

In the midst of steadying a thrumming heart ready to explode from lack of air and too much adrenaline, he caught the silhouette of a crimson doe not too far off, igniting the path back to the lake with golden light. She stomped her front hooves at him to get up and continue.

With shaky legs, he found himself being nudged to his feet by a pair of antlers longer and stronger than his own against his flank, but he didn't have the energy to figure out who these deer were. Sympathizers? Denizens of the forest he saved in the past?

The darker stag determined to stabilize himself against his side, leaving Kyle with little choice but to follow their guidance, no matter how much he wanted to just lie back down and just… sleep.

The walk back to the lake was slow and agonizing. Kyle's breathing deteriorated and, by the time they reached the bank, he felt like he no longer had any more life to expend. He collapsed just short of the water and curled into himself.

He was dying. And he couldn't do anything about it. No one could.

"Prince Kyle!" He could hear the Frog King implore. "You must return to the lake or you will surely die!" 

The frantic pounding in Kyle's ears couldn't make sense of the Frog King's words. His head lulled back against the dirt as the curse, no longer able to be fueled by his dwindling life force, weakened and unraveled. With a gentle flare of magic, he transformed back into an elf again.

He thought, for quiet moment, that he could hear his father call out to him again.

_Time is on our side, Kyle._

But it wasn't. It was time Kyle accepted it.

They were all right. Stan, his father - every single one of them. Kyle was _scared_. More scared than he had ever been in his entire life. If the gods were merciful, he thought, he would at least like a dying request: he wanted to see Eric one last time.

Kyle had his own everlasting vow to give.


	18. The Only One With the Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vow I made was for him.

Eric could have gotten lost. He  _should_  have gotten lost. He had no map marked where the barrier had been. At this point, Kyle would be long dead before Eric could manage to point himself in the right direction.

If it wasn't for the weird golden trail that lit up the path Eric would have been utterly lost.

He tore through the last of the trees, uncaring of his disheveled state sliding down towards the base of the lake. The mosaic barrier was long gone - or perhaps Scott didn't care to hide Kyle away anymore. He lost his breath completely when he found Kyle motionless on the ground and curled onto his side. The sinking feeling in his chest dropped straight into his gut and festered.

"Fuck no… please no!" Eric swore, tripping on his run over. He pressed his hand over Kyle's throat for a pulse. It was barely there - a tiny flutter and that was it. "Kyle…?" he whispered brokenly, pulling him into his arms. When he didn't stir, Eric brought his fingers gently against Kyle's cheek and tapped it. "Kyle…"

As if drawing everything he had left to surface, Kyle's eyes fluttered open, but just barely. "Holy shit… they answered…" he mumbled nonsensically. "I'm glad… you're here."

"I'm so sorry, Kyle. I fucked up, like I always do," Eric whimpered, feeling less like a grown man and more like the nine year old brat who fought desperately to keep Kyle breathing all those years ago.

"I'm not," Kyle murmured and managed to muster a small grin. "I know that vow… that vow was for me. That's what I was waiting to hear, Eric. I just wanted you to be sincere."

Eric's vision was blinded with tears. "Just hang in there, Kyle! That night… listen! That night, I didn't know what to say because I couldn't put it all into words, okay? I love you. Do you believe me, Kyle?"

With the last of his strength, Kyle wrapped a hand around Eric's neck and drew him close, brushing fondly at the hair on the nape of his neck. "I believe you. I do. I know… I know this now. I'm not… I'm not afraid to admit that… I love you too. Seriously… I love you." His grip slackened and, with his last sight being the absolutely heartbroken look on Eric's face, Kyle felt himself dip into the abyss.

It was like this too when he had been locked up in the tower. His first and last thoughts it seemed, would always be Eric. "Be a good king…"

That's all he wanted for him. Kyle had seen firsthand what Scott had become letting his bitterness and hate overwhelm him. He never wanted Eric to stray into that very path as well. Even if he wasn't going to be around to see it, Kyle wanted Eric to be the better ruler and make him proud.

_All I want is to be with you, argue with you, and laugh with you._

"Don't go now… not when… Kyle…" Eric sobbed out, cradling Kyle's unresponsive body deep into his arms with a desperation he hadn't felt since Gerald's death. "Don't leave me too… not you… please…"

He felt Scott's presence lurk behind him, watching them like a vulture just waiting for its meal. Eric lowered Kyle back down making sure that at the very least, he was comfortable.

"Such a touching farewell," Scott admitted, his words laced with pure sarcasm. "You almost had me tear up a bit. No really, I'm just about a sappy line away from laughing! God, you're so fucking pathetic, Eric! Look at you! Have some dignity for fuck's sake!" He exhaled in satisfaction. "Now you know what it's like to have everything that was yours stripped from you like I did! Do you feel the anger, Eric? That vengeance that's poisoned our father's line for generations? I want to know Eric! I want your tears! Tell me!"

Eric's residual anger dissipated. "Is that what I'd be like without Kyle? Like _you_?" he wondered with disgust and pity. "Just a psychotic asshole who thinks the world owes him for what? A grudge? You didn't earn Kupa Keep, Scott, _I_ did! You pushed me to fight for it when you treated my mother like shit! Because despite all the shit we went through, I still loved my mother! Did you ever love your mother, Scott? Have you ever loved _anyone_ in your short, miserable life? You're so fucking pathetic, Scott! You don't even have friends! You just became a self-serving dick without no one to care for but yourself. But you know what? I'm _glad_ I got where I am thanks to you! I had Kyle - I even met a man I actually called a _father_! Our time was short, but I was _happy_ , and that's worth more than all the power and glory in the universe! I won't throw their memory away like you did to yours! _I don't want to be you!_ Do you hear me, fucker?!"

"Better than me than you," Scott snarled back. "You're the reason why Kyle's dead! Why the king's dead! Because you fuck up. You know why you fucked up, Eric? Because you're a fucking Tenorman! We aren't conditioned to love - we fight and kill our way for power! It's time you realized this!"

"You're wrong. I made that vow for him… and I meant it." Eric whispered brokenly, feeling for second time in his life, that helplessness and despair which drove him in the first place. "I meant every single word." 

Scott helplessly shrugged, feeling perhaps a tiny thrum of pity for his younger brother. "Curses and their pesky little fine print, eh? A bitch to follow to a T, but what can you do?"

With a roar, Eric grabbed Scott by the scruff of his jacket. "You still have a fucking way out of this!" he snarled. "If you had any sense of decency left, you'll bring Kyle back! Fix this fuck up, Scott, and I'll let you walk away - fuck, even with the Stick of Truth! Give me back Kyle - act like a real brother just this _once_ \- and you can have the Stick!"

"And what makes you think I can cure death?" Scott laughed at him. "But it's nice to hear you acknowledging my awesome power." Feeding off of Eric's rage and sorrow, Scott couldn't help but lick his lips, savoring the moment.

If only that poor fat bitch was alive to see this, but Scott supposed he'll have to do with their little family reunion in the afterlife. Kyle's life force was barely a smidge left in existence. Now? He was going to get everything that he's earned.

"Your feud is with me!" Eric screamed. "You want to fucking rumble, I'm fucking ready! But don't you fucking drag Kyle into this! Fight me like a fucking man! BRING HIM BACK!"

Scott's cold gaze slipped to Kyle's unconscious form before he punched Eric, causing him to stagger in pain. "You want to play the hero, poopsikins?" he asked with a menacing glint in his eyes. "Alright, let's play. If you really are a selfless fucker, I'll give you exactly what you want. From one brother to another. Your life for his, how's that?"

Before Eric could even respond, a great rush of magic surrounded Scott. His clothes were ripped asunder as muscles and mass bulged out of it. Bones sickeningly cracked and replaced itself as Scott's human form twisted itself into a more animalistic shape. He grew - he just couldn't stop _growing_ \- until he was almost as tall as the trees. Fur grew out until Scott really was a great crimson abomination - a mix of animals that God would never intend on putting together.

Eric's eyes widened. This was the monster that killed King Gerald. _The Great Animal._

Giving Eric a terrifying grin of sharp teeth and black gums, Scott spun and smacked his heavy tail hard at the young prince, tossing him backwards right into the dirt. The wind knocked out of him, Eric watched in horror as the creature tossed the Stick of Truth and Kyle's pendant into the air and swallowed them whole.

There was no way the both of them were going to get out of this alive - Scott made sure of that. Eric would have to tear his hands into his own brother's  _stomach_  to retrieve the Stick of Truth before he let Scott have his run of Zaron.

Determined, Eric opened his palm and conjured up a blade of magic. He threw it, only to hiss at his stupidity when it exploded in midair. The creature let out a shrill cackling sound before he attempted to pounce and tear through Eric's insides with his long sharp claws. He narrowly missed when Eric tumbled away just in time.

"Fuck… fine, no magic," Eric muttered, spitting out dirt as he popped his sword from its decorative hilt. It wasn't meant for battle - just merely an accessory for the goddamned ball - but it was better than flailing around like a dumbass.

If he was gonna die this way, he'd rather do it by looking cool. 

The beast reared back when Eric slashed wide arcs with his blunt blade and, when it was too busy trying to swipe him with its claws, didn't consider Eric sidestepping to bonk the motherfucker right on its sensitive nose with the flat end.

It let out a shrill howl in pain and swiped hard at Eric, the force sending him careening into a tree. Eric cried out, pretty sure he heard a sickening crack somewhere, and nursed his popped shoulder while the beast came out at him - this time with a growing fireball issuing out of its unholy mouth.

Eric braced himself, refusing to run. It was his life for Kyle's, wasn't it? He spat out a bit of blood and grinned viciously at the beast. Scott was going to kill him, but at least he wasn't going to act like a fucking pussy about it.

And even if Scott lied about saving Kyle, he found he didn't really give a shit. Because either way, he was going to end up back to that infuriating Jewboy, in death or in life. He  _won_.

"Hammer of Storms!" A voice shouted before a strike of lightning zipped up and hit the creature in the side. It howled in distress, but couldn't catch its second wind because Jimmy's giant sound wave knocked it clear over the trees and out of sight with a shuddering crash.

Butters darted out from a nearby tree to shield his prince with his trusty hammer aloft and sparkling with electricity.

"The fuck did you come from? I had it where I wanted it!" Eric growled at him.

"You wanted to die?!" Stan asked incredulously, jumping down from a nearby wall. They had managed to filch their gear from offered soldiers during their journey to follow Eric. He drew out a steel blade and kept his eyes peeled for the creature again, nodding for Kenny to watch his blind spot with her keen eye.

Eric let out a howl of pain when Butters helpfully popped his shoulder back in and instinctively shoved him off. "That was the plan, asshole! My life for Kyle's!"

"What's wrong with -" Stan lost his voice the minute Eric's regretful gaze snapped to Kyle's rested form at the bottom of the stairs. The ranger scrambled after his prince like a dejected puppy.

"K-Kyle…?" Stan whispered, falling to his knees beside the still body of his best friend.

 _You have one job, Stanley,_  King Gerald had told Stan with a fond smile.  _It's a pretty easy one too. Just watch out for Kyle. You'll be his shield when he can't wield a sword._

A loud roar in the distance, and the sound of trees splitting apart, caused Butters to panic. "Stan, you need to snap out of it, buddy!" he shouted excitedly. "The monster's coming back!"

Jimmy hobbled over to examine the fallen prince. "S-Stan, he's still got s-s-some sp-spark left. N-not much, b-b-b-but…"

Kenny knelt down and ran her fingers down Kyle's temple, much to Eric's surprise. She never implied she had any kind of magical sense, so seeing her 'read' Kyle like some kind of shaman was just jarring to watch.

"A bit of Kyle's life force is still tied to the Stick of Truth," she said to Eric. "It's the pendant, Eric! Kill that motherfucker before it's too late and we can use the Stick to power Kyle back up!"

"How the fuck do you know this?" Eric demanded.

She gestured at Kyle's body with exasperation. "Do you think this is a good time to argue, Eric? Just know that I'm right! Now get your ass out there and save your man!"

"Fuck, when you put it that way…!" Eric smirked triumphantly, his second wind returning. With a flair of magic, he sharpened and hardened the ceremonial blade with a flick of his arm, the sound of the air slicing music to his ears. With a workable blade now, Eric held it up to his face dripping with confidence when Scott resurfaced and charged right at them.

The beast was smart enough to dodge Jimmy's sound attack and send its own back at him - a loud squeal so devastating it managed to crack Jimmy's lute in the process despite the barrier the bard put up to protect himself.

With Jimmy unable to use magic, Kenny started launching arrows at the beast, managing to nick it in the eye before the hem of her dress was chomped down by the beast's teeth. With a violent snap of its head, it launched Kenny into the air as the dress teared.

"Kenny!" Stan snapped out of it enough to jump up and catch her before they ended up stumbling into the lake.

Taking advantage of Scott's preoccupation with his friends, Eric climbed up a large dead tree and jumped onto the creature, intending on driving his blade right through its back. Unfortunately his idea went to shit when he had no choice but to hold on for dear life once Scott realized his plan. The creature kept jostling around like a bronco trying to buck Eric off. It didn't help that Butters kept sending lightning at them every which way in order to keep the beast from tossing Eric to his death.

Once he made sure Kenny was safely on land, Stan put two fingers into his mouth and made a shrill, almost melodic whistle that carried deep into the woods. Suddenly, the sound of wolves howling and hawks shrieking heeded Stan's mastered beast call to battle. 

Just as Eric was finally thrown off hard into a stone wall, Scott couldn't even manage the time to breathe before he was overwhelmed by wolves biting at his flank and hawks swooping down to peck and claw at his face and extremities. Scott snarled and thrashed in pain.

"Fucking ace, Stan!" Eric gasped out before wiping the blood from the deep cut on his temple. While it was preoccupied, they quickly regrouped. "Butters, quit throwing lightning at it! Magic is just going to absorb!"

"S-sorry!" Butters shouted and started swinging his hammer around by the handle rope as an alternative offense. He launched the weighted end right at the creature's head, who reeled with a scream and instinctively launched a fireball attack at Butters and the animals attacking him. The wolves quickly squeaked in fright and ran off. Some of the hawks ended up barbecued in the process.

Scott had quite enough of their foolish antics. Using the Stick of Truth, the great animal began internalizing a great burst of magic within him. A harsh red light began to draw energy in his gaping maw like a dying star on the cusp of going supernova.

Kenny's eyes widened. "Oh, shit!"

Before he could react, Butters grabbed Eric by the back of his jacket and threw him behind the crumbling wall. Stan and Jimmy instinctively jumped over Kyle's body to shield their prince from the impending attack.

Like a detonation, the creature released an explosion that leveled everything in its radius, leaving a smoking empty crater in its wake.

Jimmy's last minute barrier held, but it wasn't enough to completely shield them. Eric emerged from the rubble, exhausted but unharmed, and found his teammates lying unconscious and beaten in the crater, covered in smoke, blood, and debris.

 _ **"** **I told you my strength is unparalleled,"**_  Scott's growling voice uttered as he raised his head up and released a victorious howl that made the trees shake awake with birds. _**"** **And with the Stick of Truth back in my possession, my revenge will be absolute."**_

"I beat your ass before when I was in diapers," Eric taunted. "I can do it again!"

Scott's laugh was disgusting and curdled. _**"** **You can't even manage to stand up. You've lost your prince, your kingdom, and now you're going to lose your life."**_  A thought occurred to him. _**"** **But I'll be generous. How would you like me to kill your mother? Should I just devour her whole or should I let the entire castle burn with her in it? I'd like to know what's an appropriate funeral rite for a whore."**_

Eric charged at him screaming and then faked him out by dodging the snap of its jaws quick enough to lure him away from his fallen friends. If he could slow it down by using the trees as an obstacle, he might have the advantage. He could hear the sound of branches and trunks being trod under Scott's mighty weight on his rampage to reach him and tear him apart.

Charming his sword to detonate, Eric stuck it into a nearby tree and ran. A second later, there was a large boom of an explosion just as the great animal rushed past. Scott's anguished howl made Eric psychotically grin with bloodlust.

Eric nearly tripped over a random bow on his retreat and, realizing that it was Butters', cursed the paladin for not dropping his arrows _too_ in fright that day.

"For fuck's sake, Butters! You can't even foreshadow right!" he complained before stealing the useless weapon and continuing on.

But he had nowhere to run when he found himself trapped at the bottom of a cliff. Surrounded by stone, he could only cautiously back up when Scott reemerged. His entire rear flank was bleeding and smoking from Eric's cheap but effective tactic - one that he had learned from that Canadian magician all those years ago. The shrapnel from Eric's blade embedded true into his hide.

Dead end. He was going to die, Kyle was going to die, and the whole kingdom was going to be screwed.

This really hasn't been such a great day.

 _ **"** **Game's over,"**_  Scott heaved, his tongue flopped out from overexertion like the true animal he was. _**"** ** _I_ 'm going to kill you slowly, devour you, and then shit your corpse out in front of your slut of a mother…!"**_

"Yeah well, I hope you get diarrhea, fucker," Eric spat out because really, if he was going to die, he might as well get the last word in. He held up the bow as his last weapon, fully intending on using it to the bitter end if he had to.

Scott launched himself at Eric, but suddenly careened back in absolute pain, screaming an unholy cry from within when Eric smacked him in the face with the end of his bow. He reared back, instinctively swiping at the prince who immediately ducked.

"Jesus Christ, all I did was smack you in the face, you fucking pussy!" Eric shouted, unsure why the beast writhing and smacking himself against the trees. It was if Scott was trying to exorcise something from his very spirit.

 _ **"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?"**_ Scott howled, thrashing and exacerbating his wounds into the dirt. _ **"I BURN…! MY INSIDES ARE BURNING!"**_

"You made the mistake of not purging Kyle's light from the Stick of Truth's power!" A feminine voice shouted up from above. Eric snapped his head up and found Kenny hovering dangerously at the edge of the cliff. She nursed her bleeding arm, but held true. "Like an infection, he moves through your blood - giving you  _exactly_ the same courtesy you bestowed upon him!"

"Kenny?" Eric mouthed in confusion at how regal she held herself. How the fuck did she know all of this?

An arrow nearly hit Eric in the eye, embedding itself into the stone. "What the fuck?!" he complained, believing he saw a flash of red curls dart through the trees, but the arrow's owner nowhere to be found.

"Quick! Through the heart! While Kyle still holds the beast!" Kenny urged before collapsing to her knees.

The strange arrow was made of some kind of metal - powerful enough to embed itself to stone. How, when, or why it somehow managed to be in his possession was of no consequence to Eric at the moment. He pulled out the arrow, so sharp it made the inside of his palm split and bleed, and lined it up on Butters' bow. It was heavy - built to take down great creatures or perhaps weighed enough for a powerful hunter.

He aimed like truly meant it.

Scott managed to make enough sense through his feverish state to recognize the weapon in Eric's hands. _**"** **What the fuck?!** **That arrow…! It can't be!"**_

Instead of Eric, Scott saw the ghostly afterimage of a large, full-figured woman - statuesque and amazonian - taking a clear shot at his heart. He thought he would never see the burning determination behind her green eyes or the righteous snarl that sang with the arrow against her cheek.

 _"Your advance stops here, Prince Scott!"_ Queen Sheila shouted once upon a time and, at that moment, Scott was taken back to a bloodied and torn battlefield. Kupa Keep's castle loomed under a smog of fire and death in the horizon. _"Under the orders of Queen Liane, I will rid this land of your filth! Never will you darken this kingdom's doorway again!"_

Not again. Scott reared back and snarled at the anti-magical arrow pointed at him. _**"** **No! I killed you!"**_ he snarled, shaking his bleeding head back and forth. _ **"** **You won't stop me again, Sheila! Not this time!"**_

"Hey, Scott."

When Scott blinked through his one good eye, Sheila was nowhere around. In her place instead, in the same stance, was his half-brother, whose blue eyes burned with that very same flame.

Eric grinned nastily. "Shit this one out."

Scott let out a shrill screech that nearly blew Eric's eardrums out when the arrow zipped straight for him and penetrated through muscle and fur to pierce his heart. Desperately he tried to charge away and escape but the Stick's power overwhelmed his weakened state. Eric turned away and shielded his face when Scott suddenly exploded in a bath of excess magic and meat.

Once he was sure the explosion was over, Eric lowered his arms and groaned in disgust. He literally had a coat made of blood and guts now. "Weaaaak."

Fortunately, he didn't need to dig through all that gore for his prize. The Stick of Truth and the pendant clattered to the ground in front of Eric's feet.


	19. Far Longer Than Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With your love I'll never be alone.

Eric wiped the blood from his eyes, wincing at the swollen bruise glued to his temple. He probably looked like absolute shit, but at least Kenny looked just as worse. Dress in tatters and sporting a busted lip, she looked a peasant's wife that got beat up, and Eric couldn't find the right joke to make it stick at the moment.

The pendant was absolutely cold when Eric pocketed it. The Stick, on the other hand, was thrumming with a strange warm magic that felt otherworldly and ancient. It made his own magical aura seem like an infant's in comparison. Shaking his head, he hooked his arm around Kenny's shoulders for stability. She frowned at it.

"The power has rightfully returned to the Stick of Truth," she said grimly. "What you have in your hand has a strength hundreds-full than all the magic in Zaron."

On another day, Eric would have been enthusiastic. Now? He didn't really like the people it attracted with its fearsome power. If assholes like Scott didn't covet it so much, Kyle would have…

_Kyle._

"Shit!"

Dragging Kenny back to the lake was long and difficult. Eric was ready to pass out from his wounds when they took the destructive path back. It was only when he noticed Jimmy shaking his head with uncertainty at Stan did his strength return.

Eric set Kenny down and let Butters tend to her wounds. With what little energy he had left, he practically crawled over to Kyle's still deathly form, still unmoving and not breathing.

"Is it dead?" Stan's voice cracked from both grief and weariness. He looked like absolute shit with the really nice shiner over his left eye when Kenny inadvertently kicked him in the face. It didn't stop him from peering down at his lost prince with his one good eye, glad that he was uninjured at least from the explosion.

Eric could only swallow and nod before pulling Kyle back into his lap again. He looked so pale - too pale that Eric could vividly see his light freckles even under the stars.

Kenny bit her lip. "Kyle's last ditch act of vengeance on Scott expended the last of his life force… There might not be any essence of him left in the Stick of Truth to tie his life back…"

"Shut the fuck up!" Eric snarled. He pulled out the bloodied Stick of Truth and pointed it at Kyle. It was strange and unnerving how the artifact heeded his intentions so clearly. Before he could even give out some kind of verbal command - any verbal command - life giving energy in the form of golden light seeped into Kyle's body.

Everyone crowded around in a mixture of awe and hopefulness as color returned to the prince's cheeks and his first breath was expelled. But as they continued to wait for ten long minutes Kyle did not stir. He breathed, but there was no one home.

Stan's expression crumpled the moment Kenny quickly bit into her palm and tried to suppress her squeal of a sob. "Kenny…?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to get a hold of herself. "Eric…" she breathed, her hand on his unresponsive shoulder. "Kyle's body is alive but…"

Eric was determined. "Then it's working! Just give him… give him a bit more time okay! You know how _long_ he's been like this? He needs time!"

"E-Eric, the Stick h-ho-holds m-marvelous po-p-power," Jimmy mumbled, "B-b-but we all kn-know that once a s-s-spirit ascends, it can ne-never c-c-come back." Even a good Christian boy like Eric had to realize that the afterlife absorbs and scatters anew of the departed souls for the next life - even heathen elvish princes.

The body can be revived and preserved, but the memories, everything that constitutes a consciousness - a soul - couldn't be reproduced the same way again. Not even the _Stick of Truth_ can bring true life back.

When it became obvious that the others, even Stan, were losing hope, Eric just couldn't accept this. It just wasn't fair.

"Goddammit Kyle," Eric demanded, jostling him hard enough to make Kyle's head lull back. "You never walked away from anything in your life!  _Now fight!_  C'mon, babe! FIGHT RIGHT NOW!"

Surprised that he could muster a broken sob in his chest, Eric buried his nose into Kyle's hair before pressing desperate tiny kisses along his forehead.

"It's all my fault, Kyle," Eric whispered against cool skin. "You were right - you were always right. Everything went to shit because I couldn't be sincere. And you paid the fucking price. The truth is you scare me. You challenge me. You see through my bullshit. You're my conscience, my common sense, my better half. That's why I love you, Kyle. That's why. Now it's too late to tell you all of this shit and I'm so fucking sorry."

He squealed in pain when a pair of fingers grabbed the tip of his ear and pulled hard. "OW! What the fuck?! The fuck?! Fuck, what?!"

Kyle blearily glared up at him, that very familiar spark flickering to life in those green eyes. He weakly let go of Eric's ear and found his hand caught in Eric's warm one. "I forgive you asshole…" he mumbled before Eric hugged him hard, crushing him into the dirt. "Oh gods stop… you're so heavy…" Kyle whimpered. Then again, Eric on top of him felt really, really,  _really_  good.

"Kyle!" Stan shouted, his face breaking out into a huge relieved smile. He even laughed at Eric's unusual display of affection, as the prince was determined to kiss every inch of Kyle's face as he can, much to the ginger's faint protests.

But Eric was absolutely relentless. "Marry me, Kyle," he urged with a lopsided grin, not even stopping to hear Kyle's irritated response as he kissed his lips over and over. "Mmm… on second thought, weddings take forever to plan. Let's elope."

Kyle grimaced when he tried to slide his hand up Eric's chest to push him away, only to feel a squishy sensation of blood on the leather of his jacket. "Gross, man! You're covered in blood and guts!"

"You know you love it Kyle, you dirty dirty Jew," Eric purred.

"Straight to the honeymoon, are we?" Kenny grinned through her tears. "Oooh, I like the sound of that!"

Butters simply kept covering his poor virginal eyes. "Are they done yet?" he asked meekly.

Straight to the honeymoon? Kyle wasn't going to stand that idea just yet. And they certainly weren't going to elope with their kingdoms already hanging on a political thread. Just what they needed - another _scandal_.

"Mm… not… appropriate…" Kyle moaned, managing to muster out barely a sentence under the assault of Eric's kisses. Eventually he had enough strength to shove a hand between them, but Eric seemed determined to molest that too with his mouth. "Save it, Eric… for gods sakes! You've got an eternity to do this - preferably without people watching!"

"Not enough." Eric's blue eyes twinkled with life before dipping down for an actual heart-stopping kiss. This time Kyle let him, finally surrendering to the rightness that he had been blind of his entire life. Eric literally kissed the shame away and replacing it with warmth and light Kyle knew he was capable of - and all that gooey shit that he used to scoff against.

It was desperation, but enthusiastic. It made him feel like he could laugh and cry at the same time. It was awkward but empowered. It was promise. It was strength. It was unity.

They both finally understood what true love's kiss actually felt like.

Just one kiss would never be enough.

Jimmy wished his lute was still working. A new ballad was just waiting to be written. "T-t-there you ha-ha-have it. Everlasting l-lo-lo… everlasting lohooo… The-there you have it. Everlasting l-lo-lo… Everlasting lo… loooo… hooo…"

They decided he had an eternity to work on that ballad also.

* * *

Queen Liane had not been one to dither about waiting for news of her son's disappearance. After putting Sir Slave in the dungeons, she sent her best soldiers out in a massive search to comb the forest. It was only when troops noticed the explosion did they finally come across the lost castle in the middle of the wood - and all the missing adults alive and accounted for.

Perhaps the highlight of Kyle's eventual return to the castle wasn't the fact that the Drow border would finally lower its defenses to welcome their lost prince with welcome arms, nor was it the fact that his return would signal the end of Eric's season for the definite wedding in the spring.

It was when Liane swept Kyle into her arms and sobbed for five solid minutes into his matted curls.

"Y-you're gonna get blood all over your dress," Kyle muffled into her chest.

Liane hiccuped and cried even louder. "Oh, sweety! You're safe, you're safe… thank you God, oh thank you! Oh, I've missed you! I've missed you so much!"

Kyle allowed himself to close his eyes and naturally slip into her embrace. "I've missed you too… mom."

The last time Kyle called her mom, Eric had been angry and ashamed. Now, he couldn't stop smiling, especially when his mother gasped and then sobbed some more as she tried to run the dried blood from his hair with her once perfect manicured nails.

When Eric finally managed to pry his mother off of Kyle, Ike was already halfway down the courtyard in his pajamas screaming, "KYLE!"

"Ike!" he yelled back and nearly fell over backwards when the five year old launched himself into his arms. "I missed you so much!"

"We can tell," Eric teased. "You're suffocating the shit out of him."

Kyle sheepishly loosened his grip. "Oops."

Despite Jimmy's fabulous retelling of their journey, Queen Liane was both bereft and furious over their discretion and, after she sent them off for proper healing, forbade them from leaving the castle until everything was to be straightened out.

So long as Kyle was here and recuperating, Eric really had no problem with that. The mushiness and his new found affection for Kyle was short-lived, however, as Kyle was just too freaked out at the idea of Eric acting like, well, a  _lover_. The moment Kyle bared his teeth at Eric the sappy illusion shattered into pieces and quite honestly, Eric was kind of glad he didn't have to put up with trying to act all romantic and shit to keep him.

He was still secretly a romantic though. Eventually he'll have Kyle warming up to him. _Baby steps._

They went right back to arguing and bickering by the second day over the stupidest things - the only thing different was that at the end of it all, they finally settled all that sexual tension properly.

Unfortunately, everyone's prediction of their famous couple cooling their heels backfired. The positive reinforcement of Kyle's rough kisses only encouraged Eric to seek out more conflicts between them, hoping to get another taste of kosher like it was the last thing he'd ever do.

That was about it, really. The rumors couldn't hold a candle to how tame as shit their interactions were. There were lots of kisses and maybe the occasional grope if lucky, but Kyle was adamant that they do things properly for once. _Especially_ when Friar Maxi discovered what was left of their tainted covenant and hit the fucking roof so hard Eric was sure the new hole in the church's ceiling was where it happened.

Eric had been forced to a week's worth of confessionals and holy baptisms to 'undo' his terrible crime. That, and a real fucking massive tithe for the theft. It really sucked.

The only reason he hadn't been excommunicated was because he was going to be king. Even the great Friar Maxi had to remember that Eric would have full control of not just the treasury but the church's _funding_. So when he told Eric that their marriage could not be blessed properly at the end of the long trial, he was almost certain the prince was going to send him to be hanged.

"We'll have to deal," Kyle simply shrugged. "It wasn't like I was comfortable at the idea of getting baptized to another god."

"We're screwed if our marriage isn't recognized, Kyle!" Eric whined. "How else are we gonna unite the kingdoms?!"

Kyle popped an eyebrow and grinned. "Ever experienced a  _Jewish_  wedding, babe?"

The look of horror on Eric's face was so worth it.

* * *

Eric's courting season ended up being the shortest in the history of Kupa Keep. It hadn't even been a full night by the time he called the next co-ruler of his kingdom so while most royal patrons left the kingdom to seek out other potential seasons, the rest decided to enjoy the vacation and watch as Eric was to be crowned king.

A  _Jewish_  marriage, (good God the thought still horrified Eric), had to wait, despite his desire to simply drop everything and elope instead. Kyle's own coronation was due until the autumn season and, with the engagement securely in place without the threat of it being dissolved, Liane saw no need to wait for Eric's crowning.

Kyle watched with absolute pride during the pomp and ceremony of the event. In the grand throne room, Friar Maxi placed the gold crown upon Eric's bowed head and swore he would do his absolute best to protect and serve the kingdom until his last breath. He still had a few rough edges to work on as king sure, but Kyle supposed his job would be far too easy otherwise.

The thought of the petty, but engaging arguments with the new king excited Kyle far more than it should. They weren't going to be like most normal royal couples.

But when Eric shot a sultry wink at him before ascending, Kyle decided that normal was fucking boring anyways.

Eric walked up the stairs to the throne, turned in his fancy floor-lengthed cape, and was greeted with a fanfare of horns and occasionally the sound of Liane's hiccups. He sat down at on the throne with a confidence that took Kyle's breath away as Friar Maxi announced the new and reigning ruler of Kupa Keep.

"Let the Crown and all therein recognize the Grand Wizard of Kupa Keep, King Eric! May he lead us bring prosperity and greatness to his people by the grace of God and His divine son, Jesus Christ!"

Jesus Christ himself grinned sheepishly in the crowd before the filled room ignited in applause.

_"ALL HAIL KING ERIC! LONG LIVE THE KING!"_

Eric's cool blue eyes glittered with smug pride and his grin grew when Kyle rolled his eyes at him. He could definitely get used to the royal asskissing. _Oh yes._

When he was invited to walk out of the castle and up top the portcullis in front of his subjects, the crowds' roar of approval was deafening, even overshadowing the sound of horns.

While Eric did his job and gestured to his subjects like a proper king, Stan stealthily moved to Kyle's side and bumped him on the shoulder.

"If you smiled any more, I think you'd split your face."

Kyle snorted, but failed to lose his grin. "I just never thought I'd get to see him be crowned king. _King_ , Stan. Gods, I still can't believe it's happening. "

"Do you think the stiffs back home will let Eric watch your crowning too?" Stan asked worriedly.

That helped dim his smile considerably. "I honestly don't know… from what I heard, there's been an uproar that I'm alive. Someone from the clan must have been ruling when…" Even now, he found it hard to believe his father was gone and not able to help him sort this political bullshit out.

He supposed that, like Eric, it was time for him to step up and take his own kingdom by the horns.

Eric must have sensed Kyle's distress because they locked eyes and, for the sake of not spoiling this epic crowning, Kyle stuck his tongue out to satisfy the human. When Eric snorted and turned back around, Kyle sighed again.

"They're not going to stop your ascension as Highest Elf, Kyle," Stan said reassuringly. "Even dad said the only ones unhappy that you're alive are just desperate to put their own on the throne. But your people? They're happy - excited even! The elders won't forsake King Gerald's kin, but… it's just Kupa Keep's presence that might put them on edge. They weren't exactly thrilled when Queen Liane gave his majesty the funeral rites first. You know how they get about tradition."

Kyle straightened. "I'll deal with it, Stan, don't worry. I intend on going back and settling the matter. And if they think they can continue ruling my kingdom without my final word…"

"You'll go all Jersey on them?" Stan half-laughed, half-whined when Kyle punched him hard on the arm.

"Stop flirting with Stan," Eric growled and, uncaring for the yelp Kyle made when he was grabbed, dragged the elf to the front of the balcony. The crowd doubly cheered at the sight of Eric's future husband.

Kyle shook his head and with a diplomatic smile on his face, muttered under his breath. "You just wanted another encore, didn't you?"

"Oooh, you  _are_  good," Eric replied through his smile, teeth and all.

He would have to tell Eric eventually that he had to leave to get the Drow affairs sorted out. There was no if's, and's, or but's about it. His kingdom came first.

In the meantime, they had the rest of the summer to spend time together before Kyle's carriage arrived to formally take him and Ike home.

* * *

By summer's end, Jimmy swore he had an epic ballad penned out as a wedding present. The only problem was he had trouble coming up with a name. He gave up after Eric suggested a shitload of lewd titles that were better off used for literary erotica. Kyle decided that despite being crowned king Eric matured very little. And no, he didn't want to see what matured _beneath_ his clothes.

Well, okay he did. But someone had to act the adult in this relationship. He's long since accepted his fate the moment he met Eric all those years ago.

Eric, unfortunately, was a very resourceful and determined young human. There were a few times when Kyle was caught unawares and succumbed under those questing hands and eager mouth. Eric was very good at knowing when Kyle was in a compromising mood enough to encourage some 'misconduct' with enough success that eventually Kyle had to rely on Stan to act as his own chastity belt.

But that too ended up pretty fucking ironic considering that Kyle caught Stan flirting around with Kenny - having warmed up to her ever since that night fighting Scott Tenorman. It became a really weird circle of chastity and lust from then on. Kyle had to keep Kenny at arm's length from corrupting Stan and vice versa.

It wasn't long before Eric and Kenny decided to stupidly agree to team up and make things even more problematic. They were like kids again trying to one up each other - except it was far more naughty than competitive.

They weren't the only ones going through some sort of weird mating frenzy that would put animals to shame. Word on the grapevine was that Garrison was pretty salty after Sir Slave's pardoning on Kyle's end, but it had nothing to do with his crimes. Sir Slave ended up hooking up with Big Queer Al and it became some big gay weird love triangle that even grossed _Eric_ out. It might be because his tutor's an old fart with a voracious sexual appetite that far surpassed his own. He didn't need to hear this shit in his own castle.

Of course, no one ever listened to him these days. Even now that he was _king_.

Kyle didn't really want to know anything more about 'that' kind of relationship either, no matter how many times he tried to dissuade Sir Slave from continuing to gossip with him about it over tea. Eric, as usual, found it all both fucking gross and hilarious.

"You're the only person I know who maintains a friendly relationship with one of your captors, you fucking weirdo," Eric joked.

Kyle could only glare at him, too busy creating a near-impenetrable barrier in Kupa Keep's secret treasure room. His focus was on the Stick of Truth which was currently housed on its own pedestal with a bell jar over it.

Now that it was at full power, they both decided that hiding it away would be the best for both of their kingdoms. Kyle was too fearful of its devastating power falling into the wrong hands and Eric simply didn't feel like cheating during his reign of future conquests. Maybe he _was_ maturing - but only just a tiny bit.

Kyle nearly throttled him after finding out where Eric really kept the Stick all those years, but did he really have to hit so hard? If they had just told Eric what it really was in the first place they wouldn't have risked him tossing it into the trash years ago.

"Ngh…" Kyle groaned a bit through his teeth, the power drain still too much for his recovering spirit. He jumped when Eric slid behind him and, through his fingertips pressed into Kyle's waist, Eric poured a bit of his magic through to infuse into strength.

The bell jar started to glow and swirl with the tightly coiled tendrils of Kyle's spell before it slowly dissipated.

Kyle sighed in relief when Eric wound his arms comfortably around his middle. "I'm having so much trouble dealing with you being… nice. It creeps me the fuck out sometimes."

"Hmm… good. I want you to be creeped out," Eric purred in that fucking cloying tone that made Kyle's heart stutter and his body flush with pleasure. And, always with the ulterior motives, took advantage and slipped his hands under Kyle's robes.

The half-elf couldn't help but smirk at the invasion. "Now _that's_ the asshole I know."

* * *

As the summer drew itself into a close, Eric had been afraid that Kyle would eventually leave Kupa Keep to deal with the politics in his own kingdom. Of course it was inevitable, but the thought of losing Kyle again - even for a little while - still gave him nightmares. He wouldn't admit that to anyone, even to himself sometimes, but there were times where he'd wake up and believe this whole adventure was just some wish-fulfillment on his part and he'd have to sneak into Kyle's room just to check and see if he was actually in there.

Sometimes if Kyle wasn't grouchy from the intrusion, he'd invite Eric into his bed for the night. This particular night was one of them. Or maybe Kyle was just allowing it because it was the last night before they left the following morning.

"Are you going to stand there like a creep all night?" Kyle mumbled into his pillow, opening one annoyed eye at him from across the room.

Eric didn't honestly expect Kyle to stir this time. It was long after midnight and Kyle tended to be a heavy sleeper. That was why it was so easy to just sneak into his room without fail as a kid and pull pranks on him.

Something as juvenile as a prank was hardly on his mind when Kyle simply scoffed and opened his blanket to him. Eric easily slipped into the sheets and spooned himself against Kyle's warm back.

"This is so gay," Eric decided after a long awkward moment and wondered if Kyle just went back to sleep.

Kyle hummed in agreement. "Any gayer and we might just have to blow each other or something." Eric's exasperated chuckle burned pleasantly against Kyle's neck. "Eric?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

Eric stilled. The last time Kyle said those words, he practically _died_. He wondered if those three simple words would ever erase the image of Kyle's last breath from his thoughts. His arms around Kyle instinctively squeezed. "Don't," he warned, swallowing hard. Was Kyle trying to scare him like that? He already had to deal with Kyle leaving him again - he didn't need Kyle to jinx…

Kyle turned in his arms and kissed him deeply, short-circuiting Eric's thoughts and replacing it with arousal and utter bliss. "Stan isn't here," Kyle murmured, pulling away a fraction.

"What the fuck does  _Stan_  have anything to do with this?" Eric growled, unable to suppress that irritating flair of jealousy.

"Stan's not here, dumbass," Kyle implied slowly. When Eric continued to frown like a clueless idiot, Kyle snorted and slipped his hands into Eric's tunic, smiling in the darkness when the human jumped in surprise. He pressed his mouth against Eric's throat. "No chastity belt."

Oh God fucking dammit. Eric's breathing became labored under Kyle's questing touch. "Seriously?" he croaked.

"Seriously."

"I thought you were a good Jewish boy," Eric managed to tease without stuttering. It was pretty impressive. "You only give your tight little ass away to your life mate or some gay shit like that."

Kyle pretended to consider it, his fingers stilling much to Eric's displeasure. "You're going to be my life mate anyways," he decided. "Unless you're going to fuck around while I'm gone…?"

Eric hissed in pleasure when Kyle sunk his nails into his flesh then yelped when the pressure wouldn't let up. "Okay, okay! I won't!"

"I don't believe you," Kyle whispered with a dangerous grin. "That's why I'm going to make sure that after tonight, no one's going to _compare_."

Any protest Eric had died in his throat the moment Kyle dipped his head down made good on his threat. Kyle pushed Eric down into the sheets with such conviction it made Eric lightheaded, his thoughts kindled with nothing but pleasure. He made damn sure Eric would recall every ignited kiss and stroke of his fingers. A priest would have dumped his head into a bowl of holy water just to quench the fire in Eric's belly recalling it in his next confessional. And maybe he did.

What happened to Kyle's by-the-book priority? Eric liked to think he managed to convince the half-elf otherwise with his hot ass body. Or perhaps Kyle wasn't all holier-than-thou that he envisioned himself to be. Lust coupled with incarceration made for a very convincing argument for some sweet loving. Hell, if you added _booze_ to that equation, it may just be a standard courtship ritual for Jerseyans.

Or maybe, just simply, Kyle's explanation was more than enough. Eric was going to be his mate eventually. The only thing missing was having it on parchment. That was inconsequential to the relationship and merely the byproduct of politics.

Their last night together was Kyle's parting gift - a promise.

* * *

The sweet memory of Kyle's bare form occupying his bed was not enough to feel the keen loss of watching the carriage pack up with the intention of leaving. He watched with an irritated frown as Kyle tried to reassure and pry Queen Liane off of him before dusting himself off and helping Ike into the carriage.

Stan spooked Eric from behind by clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't worry," Stan said with good natured grin. "Nothing's going to happen to him with me leading the guard."

"Yeah okay, because you  _totally_ protected the caravan last time. You and Jimmy  _both_ ," Eric sarcastically replied.

Stan rolled his eyes. "We took on a freaking magical monster - I think I've got enough experience to at least hold another off."

"B-b-besides…" Jimmy chirped from the coach's side. "I w-was c-c-c-ca-caught off gu-g-guard. And I c-c-c-couldn't feel my le-legs."

"You're a fucking cripple! Your legs never worked!" Eric retorted, not in the mood for jokes as Stan and Kyle laughed.

Discreetly nodding Stan away for privacy, Kyle straightened his cloak and gave Eric a wistful grin. "You look like I stole your favorite toy," he teased. "Man up, Eric! I'll be back before you know it."

Eric couldn't help but avert his eyes downward, looking even more like a petulant prince than a king. "Yeah, whatever."

Kyle snorted. "Alright then. See you."

"Don't go." Eric's strained plea was enough to keep Kyle from walking away. Kyle grabbed the lapels of Eric's jacket and pulled him down for a long, satisfying kiss. Eric melted into it and wished that it didn't end. If it did, that was it. Kyle would be gone.

"Close your eyes," Kyle murmured as if weaving a delicate spell to lessen the tightness in Eric's chest. "Close your eyes. I am where you are."

And that was that. He was gone. 


	20. Eternity is On Our Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the very moment I met you, I was thinking about the rest of our lives.

_The Fourteenth Year - Winter's End_

The freeze had not been kind on the kingdom's crops. With the passing of Kupa Keep's responsibilities being put on their new king, Eric's mother had been gone from the castle more often than usual to provide charity work. It's been two weeks since Eric's last seen her as she continued doing her rounds to make sure the people knew their King was aware and working to fix the food shortage.

Taxes did little for hungry people, so Eric had been forced to lower it as his first financial decision for the coffers. They didn't have extravagant dinners in the castle anymore, but maybe it was for the best. The last thing he wanted to reflect to outsiders was a well-fed king ruling over a sea of starving citizens in his kingdom. 

Which was probably why Eric hadn't made any public appearances the last few months. He was a narcissist, sure, but he was a  _crafty_  narcissist. Working the angles was kind of how he lived and breathed. And there was no way in hell he was going to skip a meal like his bleeding heart fiancé would just to make a statement. It's called a hierarchy of priority - his health was much more important to the kingdom than a few starving children. Did a hungry bar drunk know how to run a kingdom? Exactly. 

What they really desired was some actual solutions to fix this shit - which was exactly what Eric was going to give them even at the cost of his beauty sleep. 

On one hand, once Scott's evil presence left the forest, the animal population steadily returned in considerable numbers. Jimbo and his hunters were actually put back into business and meat did help more than grain at this point. Unfortunately, Eric wasn't so sure the resurgence would be quick enough to feed everyone constantly everyday.

If it wasn't for the Canadians, he would have been really screwed. Living in the hostile north for the new immigrants came with the experience of dealing with shitty winter harvests. By the end of November, the Canadians managed to stockpile a giant cache of maple syrup and waffles for the populace to rely on - and that's better than nothing at this point.

A light trickle down of snow continued to dance past Eric's window. The weather had been steady since this morning, which was typically a sign of winter's end, and more often than not the snow left over melted faster than could be replenished by the next day.

Spring was steadily approaching. And with spring came crops and prosperity again. Thank fucking God.

Eric continued making progress on the mountains of paperwork that needed to be read and revised on before he signed it. He learned that the hard way when he inadvertently signed off on an ordinance allowing people to walk outside nude in public. He still had a sneaking suspicion that Garrison put it there to teach him a lesson.

But this also meant that he didn't want anyone to bother or distract him while he worked. With Eric's nose literally on the grindstone dealing with all the boring shit that came with being a ruler, he really didn't need Kenny, Butters, or even his  _mother_  putting him off with conversation. These days it was even common for servants to avoid the grand study unless it was an emergency or he seriously needed to stop and actually eat a meal. Other than that, guards patrolled his door and threatened to skewer them if they so much as breathed in their vicinity.

So when the study door opened without so much as a _knock_ , Eric was ready to break his pen in half. What part of _'no visitors'_ did his guards not understand? His sense of time returning and his one-track mind to get this shit done unraveling, Eric pounded his fist hard on his desk. 

"Whose dick do I have to suck to get some decent guards around here?!" he snarled.

"If you've been bartering services by sucking dick, we might need to talk," said a warm, long forgotten voice that seized Eric to the spot.

He looked up and literally drank in the sight of Kyle, his ascendance to adulthood completed on the cusp of winter. And, from the looks of the gnarled silver crown upon his soft curls, a crowned  _king_  on his own right.

Despite the fierce pounding in his chest, Eric somehow managed to remain disinterested and calm. "A king's duty is never finished," he recalled and sat back, gesturing in front of him. "What brings you to my great and prosperous kingdom, your majesty?"

Kyle offered him a slow and easy grin that made Eric's stomach flutter. "I was hoping to get  _married_ , but I seem to have misplaced my fat, immature fiance. Probably sucking dick somewhere, no doubt."

Eric's eyebrow ticked like clockwork at the insult, that spark of life returning alongside the warming season. "Well, you can get in line. I'm still waiting around like a dillhole for my preachy ginger of a fiance. You know he's Jewish too? Ginger, Jewrat, and Jersey - the unholy trinity of suckage."

"Maybe we should just marry each other and get back at them," Kyle sniffed indignantly. "Clearly we're out of their league." His voice was much deeper and his stance was strangely svelte and streamlined. At that moment, Eric wanted to thank God for elvish puberty.

"Clearly," Eric managed to croak out.

They kept this stalemate for a minute longer, which wasn't surprising. Even now, they still seemed determined to compete and triumph over the other.

But when Eric was just a half-second away from giving in, Kyle hopped over the desk in his desperate pursuit to climb into his lap, disrupting and spilling all of Eric's hard work off the surface and onto the floor. Eric grunted and leaned as far back as he could before the new monster of a Jew seized his mouth in an aching, needy kiss.

"God, you've gotten so hot…" Eric moaned into his mouth with desperation, his fingers quickly entangling into fierce curls the color of blood. Kyle's crown came askew and bounced harmlessly off the desk, but the elf didn't seem to mind the slightest. His curls were longer, but were haphazardly tied back, making Kyle look like a wild savage that only turned Eric on more than it disgusted him.

Kyle quirked up an eyebrow when Eric tugged at his ponytail in question. "It's a Jersey thing," he purred. "You wouldn't understand."

Clearly, he didn't. Kyle spent the half hour telling him everything that happened upon his return to the Drow Kingdom, occasionally pausing in his tale to kiss and pinch Eric whenever he tried to say something offensive or perverted. Long story short, Kyle's ascension had been postponed until barely a month ago due to clan squabbles. It took a quick scry call to Jersey to clear this whole matter up - _diplomatically_ of course.

"You threatened them with your Jersey freak show of a family, didn't you?" Eric's grin was ready to split his face. "Fuck, you're so hot."

Kyle flushed irritably. "No! It wasn't like that! I just said that… maybe, they should reconsider. With myself on the throne, we don't have to worry about the piracy and trouble along our borders with Jersey. It was a perfectly reasonable offer."

"Mhmmm…" Eric hummed, serenely rubbing his thumbs along the edges of Kyle's hips. He simply sat back and watched Kyle literally try to talk his way into convincing himself more than convincing Eric, which he found fucking hilarious. Kyle just couldn't do hypocrisy, even when he obviously was one, and he'd rather spend hours trying to justify himself than admit that in a weird almost endearing way - he was just like Eric in some aspects.

He simply didn't understand why that was a bad thing.  

"You don't believe me, do you?" Kyle snapped after an unnatural moment of silence on his lover's end.

"Of course I believe you, Kyle," Eric replied in that really irritating tone that said otherwise. "Like you said, it was a _perfectly reasonable offer_. Being a king is hard, Kyle. Sometimes you have to crack that whip even when you don't want to. At the end of the day, the ends justifies the means."

Kyle snorted then laughed. "You haven't even been king for a year yet! You're giving  _me_  advice?"

"I'm five months more than you have being a king, Kyle!" Eric said indignantly, then averted his eyes at the small, prideful smile sent his way.

"You do," Kyle said softly. "Your mother sent me letters about what's going on with the famine. I'm seriously proud of you, Eric. You really have no idea." Just when he thought he couldn't love Eric any more, he had to turn around and prove Kyle wrong.

"Well… it's not like I had any choice," Eric grumbled. "It's not very impressive to be king with your subjects all dead by starvation."

Kyle tilted his head in agreement. "A very good point. Which reminds me… since our dowry's are kind of null and void thanks to breaking the covenant…"

"Don't remind me. I'm still taking daily confessionals about that," Eric growled, then watched curiously as Kyle started searching through his robes for something. "Wait. You got me something?" His blue eyes twinkled with interest.

"Mhmm…" Kyle hummed absently before drawing out a piece of parchment from his pocket.

Eric eagerly unfolded it and…

…worst Christmas present ever.

"Yeah, right? It's fucking fantastic!" Kyle gushed out happily. "I did some expense reports with the treasury board and we've agreed that we have enough fruits and vegetables to distribute to the entirety of Kupa Keep for the next month! That's enough time for you guys to get the spring harvest rolling in!"

"I think the stick you gave me the first time was a more exciting gi- OW!" Eric whined when Kyle boxed him hard on the ears.

"Don't be selfish," Kyle warned, then combed his fingers through his short brown locks in apology. With a sound tug, he pulled Eric's head back and kissed him again.

Eric might never get over how right Kyle's lips felt against his. He felt like kicking the shit out of his younger self for missing out on some choice moments the years spent avoiding each other, but he was a king now. Dwelling on the past and what could have been would seriously cut in to his here and now.

And here and now? He just wanted to focus on how determined and inviting Kyle's mouth was against his until it was little more than a lewd devouring brought on by time and separation. Eric tugged and fought the buttons on Kyle's winter jacket and once he found the heated flesh of Kyle's stomach, the elvish king released a low content purr that he's never heard before. 

When they parted for air, Eric absolutely did not whimper from missing him. Nor was he desperate to grip and explore Kyle's strong and slender torso. Maybe Kyle put a shitty Hebrew curse on the crops to gain his own strength. Eric was sure his approval of said curse would be considered treason to the Crown though.

"I'm exhausted," Kyle realized with a groan and wound his arms around Eric's neck.

"I'm pissed," Eric replied with a slow grin. "What took you so fucking long? Almost _six_ months, Kyle. I could've had slept with half the kingdom by now."

Kyle's nose wrinkled. He practically ripped Eric's hands out from beneath his tunic. "Fucking gross, man. You probably have crotch rot or something. Now I'm definitely not going to have sex with you."

"My, my… someone's gotten so filthy," Eric purred and squeezed the inside of Kyle's thighs instead. The tiny strangled sound in the back of Kyle's throat was beautiful to hear. "Did the word 'sex' just leave your mouth, Kyle? The corruption within you runs so deep." His smile grew at the blush on Kyle's face. "You know what can fix that?"

Kyle couldn't help it. "Something deeper?" he tried, his voice hoarse by the predatory glint in those cold blue eyes.

"Yes," Eric said thickly and squeezed again. "So deep you'll cry out  _hallelujah_." He pulled his chair back and abruptly deposited Kyle's ass onto the carpet.

Kyle yelped in alarm and glared up at the human king. "What the fuck, asshole?!"

"Accept our lord and savior Jesus Christ deep into your heart, Kyle. I'll not have a heathen in my marital bed."

"You motherfucker," Kyle growled, then laughed when Eric popped the buttons off his own jacket and quickly followed after him.

* * *

_The Fourteenth Spring_

They did have their Jewish wedding by the way. Well, a mix of that and a Christian wedding once Friar Maxi caved and refused to recognize their king's marriage despite a ruined covenant. Despite the supposed ruling by the clergy that their engagement had been null and void, they couldn't risk losing religious power if their king married through Judaism instead and inspire others to follow his example. 

But Kyle had been adamant to be married as a Jew and so the two kings literally had to stand there at the altar and experience the passive-aggressive back and forth between Friar Maxi and Rabbi Schwartz, who both tried to out-important each other with the vows and the blessings.

"Do you his Highest Elf King Kyle, take Grand Wizard King Eric to be your husband, promising to cherish and protect him, whether in good fortune or in adversity, and to seek together with him a life hallowed by the faith of Israel, the home soil of the Drow?" Rabbi Schwartz asked serenely.

Friar Maxi snorted, then looked away when Eric shot a glare at the man. Every other day he would be fine with anyone ripping on the Jews, but this was his  _wedding_. The last thing he needed was for Kyle to be upset right now. He'd rather wear the stupid yarmulkes and endure whatever silly rituals the Hebrews had than risk fucking up the biggest moment of their sad little lives. There will be no fuck ups today, or there would be a hanging instead of parade. He can do that now. Friar Maxi better fucking know this.

Kyle, on the other hand, didn't seem to be annoyed or perturbed by this whole arrangement. He turned to Eric, looking hot as hell in his form-fitting ceremonial robes and, with a sheepish smile, took Eric's hand and slid a polished wooden ring inlaid with gold onto his finger. He said something in Hebrew, causing confusion for Eric and the rest of his court, but it brought a reverent hush on Kyle's side of the aisle.

"What?" Eric whispered with an apologetic grin.

"With this ring, you are made holy to me, for I love you as my soul," Kyle answered. "You are now my husband."

That was… _really_ good. Way better than the standard vows the Church usually fed to them. Eric's grin practically melted into a sappy smile and there was nothing he could do about it but let Kenny give him shit for it later.

Friar Maxi turned the page of his bible. "Do you, his majesty - Grand Wizard King Eric take Highest Elf King Kyle for your lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?"

Eric's answer was simple and to the point. "I do," he said, treating it like it was the most natural response in the world. Kyle shook his head and grinned when Eric slipped a golden band rimmed with sapphires onto his finger - always the fucking show off with gifts.

And when Rabbi Schwartz actually invited Eric to stomp the shit out of a glass chalice as part of the Hebrew ritual, Friar Maxi just about had an aneurysm.

"Love is fragile like glass," Rabbi Schwartz helpfully explained to most of the confused court. "You must protect it, be gentle with it, help it shine brighter. To break the chalice, you will be reminded from then on how easy it is, your majesties."

Eric scoffed. He didn't need any justifiable reason for it. It just meant he could break something in his wedding which was pretty exciting on its own. When Kyle offered to do it instead, he couldn't help but interject. "No, no," he said, feigning reluctance. "I'll do it. Look how culturally sensitive I am, Kyle. I'll be more than happy to humor your customs."

Kyle's green eyes flashed in warning. He didn't believe him for one godsdamned second. "You just want to break something, Eric. I just hope you realize why in the first place."

"Yeah, yeah I got it," Eric dismissed, eager to get on with the destruction. "Love is fragile, words are like bullets, blah blah blah I got this."

As a consolation prize, Kyle could at least stand there and blatantly admire the way Eric moved in his fancy dark blue jacket as he tried to break the chalice with his shiny leather boot. But after the first five tries and not a single crack to show for it, Kyle had to cover his mouth to keep himself from laughing as Eric started to panic and abandon all sense of sovereignty to hop on it like a dork to no avail.

"Oh my…" Liane peered down in confusion, her tears abrupt and forgotten. "Is it supposed to be that strong?"

"We might need the name of the glassblower who made that," Garrison quipped to Mackey under his breath. "That's some fucking quality glass right there if it can stand two tonnes worth of weight." Kenny nearly fell out of her pew with laughter.

"I heard that asshole!" Eric snarled before snapping a glare at Kyle, who was just an utter failure at keeping a straight face. "How about a little help here, babe?"

Kyle smiled apologetically and managed to keep a straight face this time. "That's what I'm here for, hun." After a few more tries adding his own weight into the attempt, the glass chalice finally cracked and then caved under their fancy footwork.

"Fucking teamwork," Eric crowed triumphantly and high-fived his new husband without a care for propriety. For the first time since the ceremony, Friar Maxi and Rabbi Schwartz exchanged a smirk.

"By the Divine Grace of God and His son, Jesus Christ-" Friar Maxi began.

"And by the Hand of Yahweh and his pantheon's grace upon you-" Rabbi Schwartz added.

 _"You are now pronounced unified and married. May the kingdoms flourish under your righteous and kind rule."_  

Both courts stood and cheered when Kyle pulled his new husband by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him before Eric could make good on his threat to dip him like a bride.

When the chapel doors opened with great fanfare, King Eric and Highest Elf Kyle lowered their heads for the specially made crowns adorned with gold and silver - physical representations of unity between two kingdoms for the rest of Zaron to witness and _maybe_ tremble in fear for.

The trumpets sounded and the crowd both royal and common alike cheered and tossed their hats off in celebration.

Queen Liane's tears did not subside when she cupped Kyle's face lovingly. "I know your father is so proud," she whispered. "Both of them are." Kyle's smile wilted, but was saved by Eric's reassuring grip around his arm.

"So did you actually swear in Yiddish or where you actually speaking in tongues like Friar Maxi claimed?" Eric whispered as they walked down the steps.

Kyle could only grimace. "Blame the asshole who designed these outfits to be so tight. Kneeling nearly _killed_ me."

Eric laughed.

A little farther down the spectacle, Stan screwed decorum so tiny Prince Ike can hop onto his shoulders and see the small parade left in the crowned royals' wake. He blinked when Butters stumbled over, swaying unsteadily on his feet.

"Staaan!" Butters drawled in a way that reminded Stan horribly of his father. "Have you tried this ambrosia-thingy?! It's so delicious!"

Stan hissed uncomfortably at the fruity smell coming out of Butters' mouth. "Be careful with that stuff, Butters, that's elvish ambrosia. It's laced with fermented fruit."

"Dunno what that means, so I'll just nod and pretend I understand," Butters chirped. "Hey, did you see the wedding? It was great! A little boring except for the glass part, but don't tell anyone kay? I think Friar Maxi is just really dry with his speeches… like dry, _wood_ dry… you know what I. am. sayin'?"

"No, I don't know what you. are. sayin'," Stan snorted and grunted when Ike started kicking him in the chest by the heels of his boots with excitement.

"Is Butters  _drunk_?" Kenny's giggle was flighty when she pinned herself to Stan's side. "You do know it's prohibited for paladins to drink, right?"

Butters careened backwards and landed his ass hard onto the cobblestone path. "I'm not drinking!" he said happily and laughed. "I've been  _eating_!"

Kenny snickered. "Oooh, a loophole. I didn't know you had it in you, Butters." She looked between them. "Anyone catching the bouquet?"

"Don't you mean the cockring?" Stan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ike's grip on Stan's dark locks loosened. "What's a cockring?" he wondered loudly, tilting his body forward to properly look at his guardian.

Stan paled.

Kenny burst into a fit of giggles. "Kyle's going to have your head when he finds out!"

" _If_ ," Stan corrected and handed Ike to Butters. He bowed to her. "I would be honored if her ladyship accepts my offer as an escort for the reception tonight."

Like clockwork, she instantly played the shy maiden, bringing her hands behind her back to sway her hips from his proposal. "Hmm… you're good, Stanley. Very good…" She blew a kiss at him. "I'll have to accept - for the good of the kingdom of course."

Butters giggled. "Heh heh, she's gonna stick your hand up her frock tonight!"

"BUTTERS!" An older man said sharply not too far off. Butters instantly froze up at the sound of his father's stern voice. "HAVE YOU BEEN DRINKING, YOUNG MAN?!"

"Oh maple biscuits," Butters grumbled.

Not too far away, Captain Donovan and his boys chilled in the shadows of an open alleyway. Token was missing from their group as usual since he had been invited to the wedding. The perks of being a prince and not an unwanted scruffy pirate, it seemed.

"I am so fucking done with this fairytale bullshit," Clyde sighed. "What I wouldn't give fer a chance ter sail the open seas again."

"Maybe if you hadn't lost all the gold we earned on that poker game, we wouldn't be stuck here," Craig said as a matter-of-factly.

Tweek's eye started to twitch from all the confetti floating by. "D-do you really think King Eric is going to give us another loan again?"

"Why not? We're the eyes and ears of this kingdom," Clyde folded his arms and grinned at the royal couple waving at the populace not too far away. "They'll definitely need us again. I can feel it in me bones."

"Yeah, just don't squander that shit away again," Craig warned. "We almost had to eat Tweek during the famine if you recall."

"Ack!" Tweek covered his ears. "I don't want to remember it! Oh God, no!"

Clyde simply smiled and, when he caught Lady McCormick giving him a deliberate look beyond Stan's shoulder, couldn't help but wink back. Oh yes, he was sure they were going to be fortunate again. She would see to that.

* * *

The best part about being king was that Eric could order Big Queer Al to hang if he dared tried to make a spectacle out of the reception. Thankfully, the man seemed to have caught on that King Eric was far less accommodating than his mother. His threats held enough water that Al kept his big mouth shut the entire time, which was a wedding gift on its own for the newlyweds.

There was no fanciful music or choreographed numbers save for the orchestra and the regular normal waltzes commenced right after the new royal couple traditionally provided the first dance. It didn't last very long because Eric was already complaining of being hungry so they ended up spending most of the reception by the grand dinner table cooling their heels.

While Eric laughed at something Kyle was chastising him with over a glass of wine, Garrison opened his palm to Mackey. "Alright, pony up the gold. I've won this."

"Technically King Kyle was considered dead, m'kay, so I won the first bet." Nevertheless, Mackey was a good sport and opened up his leather purse.

Overhearing them, Liane frowned and swarmed up upon them like a mother goose. "What's this about a bet?"

Mackey gulped. "N-not… I mean… it was harmless, your grace -"

"Oh for fuck's sake, you make sound like it's illegal," Garrison said, rolling his eyes. "Thirteen years ago, we made a bet over whether or not this whole engagement thing was going to blow up in our faces. Mackey bet that it'd fall through and I countered it. I won, I'm a hundred coins richer, and I'm spending it on my much needed retirement. What?"

Liane shook her head in disbelief. "Wait… you believed they  _would_ get together, Garrison? And you!" She huffed at Mackey. "You thought it  _wouldn't_ have worked? I don't understand!"

"Uhm… what's not to understand, m'kay?"

"Shouldn't it have been the other way around? You weren't exactly encouraging your side of the bet the entire time, Herbert."

"Oh please," Garrison dismissed. "A blind, deaf man with a peg leg could sense the chemistry a mile away. Encouraging it would have been overkill."

"I should have Eric ban gambling in this kingdom," she folded her arms. "It's obviously not healthy for anyone!"

Mackey nervously rubbed his hands together. "Will it be before or after the payout on your end, your grace, m'kay?"

Liane blinked in alarm before clearing her throat. "Oh, there's the Duke of Denver! It seems he's has too much wine for tonight. Excuse me."

"Yeah, I bet he does," Garrison replied smugly.

* * *

Out in the courtyard, Kyle dodged out of the banquet hall for some fresh air. He could still smell the thick cloying smell of smoked food and the sounds of the party still in full force and he ignored it in favor for some actual greenery. There was so much he could witness watching Eric gulp down food like it was his last meal. 

Kyle walked a bit down to the edge of the courtyard until he could see the moon hanging over the ocean. He had never experienced Kupa Keep in the midst of spring. It was both familiar and new to him. Maybe he could convince Eric to travel back to the Drow homeland with him and see what spring was like there as well. These were _actual_ ideas that could come to fruition and that itself brought a spring to his step. 

Whether it was here or the Drow or whichever, his home was with Eric and their friends and loved ones. He couldn't be anymore content with this ending so long as it lasted, right?

He was surprised to find the three animal spirits suddenly appear before him.

"Great job, your majesty!" Catatafish exclaimed.

The Sparrow Prince nodded and bowed. "Thanks to you and your friends, we are all free."

Kyle blinked before smiling at the apparitions. "Oh, well I'm glad to hear that. After all that you've done, I'd say you deserve it."

"But your adventures are just beginning," The Frog King declared. "For you are no ordinary king, Kyle." A gentle ball of magic drifted down from them. "You are the Stag King!"

He held his hands up in polite refusal of the offering. "Uh, no, that's okay. One royal title is already a mouthful to me, but I appreciate the - AGH!" He recoiled when the bright ball clunked him in the head and dissipated. "Hey!" he snapped, only to find the spirits gone.

Unbeknownst to him, they had gifted Kyle with an ancient knowledge that had been lost to the Drow royal line for nearly eight centuries - the ability to shapeshift into a powerful creature at will.  

Idly rubbing his forehead, Kyle sighed and leaned against the guardrail, checking his hands and his magic for any weird things they did to it. When he discovered none, his annoyance drifted away once he realized where he was standing.

He was overlooking the sea where Eric respectfully sent his father's funeral rites.

"I'm sorry, dad…" he whispered and quickly pinched the bridge of his nose to avoid tearing up again. "If I didn't doubt Eric in the first place, maybe you would have…"

"Regret is bad luck on someone's wedding day."

A small exasperated smile revealed itself when Eric stood beside him. "Hey. Did you already clear out the buffet?" he teased.

"Ha ha, a fat joke. Like that never gets old," Eric drawled irritably. "I hate you so fucking much, you greedy Jewrat."

Kyle snickered. "Sorry babe. Do you forgive me?"

"Might as well have to. Divorce is a sin in this country," Eric laughed at the affronted look his husband was sporting. "Sorry babe," he teased. "Do you forgive me?"

"Nope. We have divorces in my country. And I'm going to take half of everything you own if you piss me off," Kyle growled.  

Eric laughed. "Keep digging that stereotype in, Kyle." With a sudden thoughtful look, he rifled through his trouser pockets and dangled a gold familiar chain in front of Kyle. "Guess who got rid of the smell?"

Kyle's eyes lit up in recognition. "My necklace!" He eagerly turned the pendant in his hands. "Gods, I wish I had this when I was kidnapped," he said ruefully. "I just felt so _lost_ without it."

"I know," Eric murmured soberly. He spun his finger around in a gesture for Kyle to turn around. "Do you want me to…?"

"Please," he urged. As soon as Kyle turned, he felt the comforting slide of Eric's fingers grazing his neck and exhaled in relief once the clasp was safely secured. _Now_ everything felt complete. He smiled when Eric wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him close.  

"You know," Kyle continued, looking out into the sea. "The last conversation I ever had with dad was about you."

"I'm sure he had a lot of  _nice_ things to say about me that night." Eric tried for humor, but the pensive way he squeezed his shoulders indicated otherwise.

Kyle patted his elbow comfortingly. "He thought you were genuine. He said we just needed time."

"Do we have time now?" The question seemed to hang. Eric, at long last, was showing Kyle the insecurity he kept down his entire life. Even now, despite fighting a giant fucking monster and running a prosperous and content kingdom, he still thought he wasn't worth his salt.

Kyle believed that he could change that. His father had been right after all. He turned in Eric's embrace and eased into the human like it was as natural as breathing. "We have more than time," he replied, pulling Eric's mouth down to his. "We've got the rest of our lives."

 _Or perhaps,_  Eric thought defiantly,  _they had much longer than that._

_**The End** _


End file.
